A Number of Things
by coolbyrne
Summary: Sara's holiday in England includes Tony Hill and… MURDER! Dun-dun-DAAAA! Sorry. But really? Just an excuse to get three of my favourite characters in a story together. New chapter up Nov.10th!
1. Default Chapter

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TITLE: A Number of Things

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AUTHOR: coolbyrne

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RATING: No more than a PG, I'd think.

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SPOILERS: "Butterflied", but that's about it. 

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DISTRIBUTION: If you like it, by all means take it. 

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DISCLAIMER: CSI characters belong to… well, a bunch of people. Of whom I am not one. Tony Hill, Carol Jordan and most of the Brits in this fic belong to Val McDermid, author of the fantastic series, "The Wire in the Blood". That would not be me, either.

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CLASSIFICATION: CSI/Wire in the Blood cross-over. Case file with a splash of G/S.

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FEEDBACK: Compliments and/or criticisms are greatly appreciated. Flames will be mocked in other forums. Send any combination of the above to: coolbyrne@as-if.com

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SUMMARY: Sara's holiday in England includes Tony Hill and… MURDER! *Dun-dun-DAAAA!* (Sorry.) But really? Just an excuse to get three of my favourite characters in a story together.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: A couple of things. This is probably more "Wire" heavy than "CSI" heavy, but I hope there's enough CSI to justify archiving it under the CSI banner. As well, this is an extension of my fic, "In the Blood", though not a sequel, per se. It's not necessary to read the first in order to "get" this one. Regarding Tony and Carol- I'm sort of going with the inference at the end of the book "The Last Temptation" that they are slowly moving towards a relationship with one another. I'm torn between events and characteristics in the novels and those that happen/appear on the television series. I sort of decided to try for the middle. I hope it works. And my many thanks to Jo, beta reader and English woman extraordinaire. *grin*

*

"Time off?" Grissom asked, as if he had just learned the phrase.

Sara stood in front of his desk and grinned, "Yeah, you know, time off. Time away from work."

His eyes narrowed at the realization she was making fun of him, though a serious thought occurred to him. "Are you okay? And I don't mean you'd have to be sick to be thinking of time off…" he trailed off. He tried again. "I just mean, things okay?"

Her attitude softened at his question. "Yeah, I'm good. I'm not sick." She raised an eyebrow, as if surprised with herself. "I'm just taking a holiday."

"A vacation?"

Unable to resist mocking his bewilderment, she dryly delivered, "I don't know what's come over me."

"Very funny." He looked down at her request and reached out for a pen. "When were you thinking of going on this… vacation?"

"Next month, from the 15th to the 29th."

He jotted this down. "You seem to have this thought out."

"Yeah," she answered, "I'm going to England. Spend a week or so in London, then head up to Bradfield to visit Tony."

"Tony?"

"Tony Hill."

"The psychologist who helped us with that serial killer?"

"One and the same."

Grissom absently tapped his pen on the desk. "I didn't realize you two had kept in contact."

She shrugged. "We've been emailing each other pretty regularly."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Mostly work-related stuff, tossing theories back and forth. And since he's a psychologist, I can get all my therapy for free." She smiled. "It's been… nice." 

He had the good grace to close his mouth before it dropped completely to the desk. Scribbling his name on her request form, he muttered, "Tell Dr. Hill I said hello."

*

"You fancy a bite to eat?"

Carol tilted her head. "I thought your friend Sara was arriving today?"

Tony's eyes narrowed, then slowly widened as the realization hit him. "Damn! Damn, damn, damn." He scrabbled his folders and papers together and dared to look at his watch.

"How late are you?" Carol asked.

"Oh, not really late. Only about… well, an hour." He saw her shake her head. Satisfied that he had collected everything he needed, he said, "Will you come by later on?"

She scrunched up her nose. "Do you really want me to?" she asked reluctantly.

"Yes, I really want you to. I'd love you to meet each other." Seeing her hesitate, he added, "You'll get along famously. Beautiful, intelligent, independent. It will be like looking in the mirror for you." He paused and gave this some thought. "Except she's a brunette." He paused again. "And a bit shorter." Reaching out his hand from the armload of paper he was holding, he tapped the front of his teeth. "And she has this very adorable gap between her teeth."

Carol slapped his arm. "Go on, then! I'll see you later tonight. And you'd better hope she's not exactly like me, because I'd wring your neck if you were an hour late."

"Worse," he said, "she's in forensics. She'd know where to hide my body."

Carol's look spoke volumes.

"Right, right, I'm off." He made it as far as the doorway before turning back and stepping inside the office.

"You forget something?" Carol asked.

"Yes." 

He walked towards her until only the folders in his arms separated them. She glanced nervously into his startling blue eyes until his lips touched her own. After a brief connection, he began to pull away, but the feel of her hand on his arm kept him in place. A moment longer, and she was the first to break the contact.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked into hers. 

"Well, that was unexpected," she said. Seeing his mouth open to speak, she quickly added, "But… enjoyable."

He raised his eyebrows and gave a quiet, "Ah." Still searching her eyes, he ventured, "So that was all right, then?"

She smiled and touched his lips with her finger. "Yeah, I'd say that was all right. And now you're even more late."

"Right!" And with that, he was gone, a study of barely controlled panic as he left her office.

*

At the sound of the car pulling up to the curb, Sara looked up from her paper and smiled. From her perch at the top of the steps in front of his apartment, she watched as Tony wrenched on the handbrake and almost fell out of the car in his haste.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he chanted as he reached the foot of the steps and looked up to her. "I got caught up in a case, lost track of time, came as soon as I remembered." He stopped, out of breath. Holding out his arms, he said, "Well, come on then."

She put down her paper and jogged down the six steps to greet him. Embracing, he said, "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you, too."

Parting, he looked around and asked, "Do you have luggage?"

"Yeah," she answered. "It's in the trunk." She paused and corrected. "Sorry, I mean 'boot'."

"Very good. We'll make sure no one will be able to understand a single word you're saying when you get home." They walked around to the back of her car and removed the lone bag.

"You travel light," he noted.

"Well, I tried to guess what kind of weather I should expect, then narrowed it down to bringing practically everything or practically nothing. I figured I'd take my chances."

He couldn't help but smile. "Probably for the best. I'm sure we can come up with something should you need anything extra." He took her bag and they made their way up the steps. "Did you find the place okay?" He answered before she had the chance. "Of course you did, you're here. Were you waiting long?"

"No, only about an hour." She flashed him a sideways grin.

"I really am sorry about that."

"It's okay," she said, "I picked up a tea and a paper from the coffee shop down the street."

He unlocked the door to his flat and gave her a puzzled look. Looking down the road, he marveled, "There's a coffee shop?"

*

"I've got the top floor," he said as he gestured her up the stairs. "Come in. Don't mind the mess."

As they weaved their way through his deceptively large living room, she couldn't help but marvel at the books. Piles of books. On the floor, on the desk, on the computer, tipped precariously off the edge of every flat surface it seemed. Beyond the few photographs in the room, she couldn't make out much more that would give her an insight to her host. Then something on his desk caught her eye.

"A clean desk is a sign of a cluttered mind," she read out loud.

Tony turned at her voice and saw her looking at the sign taped to the side of his computer.

"From Carol," he explained. "I began to tell her there was no actual medical correlation between casual order and the thought process when I realized it was a joke." He pushed open a nearby door. "Not the Hilton, but I hope it's all right."

The room couldn't have been any more of a contrast to the living room if it had tried. A neat double bed rested in the corner and a nightstand stood beside it, bearing only a small lamp. In the opposite corner sat a desk free of books; only a few folded towels took up any room of the surface. An oval rug on the hardwood floor completed the spartan picture. Sara looked at Tony, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Like my mind, only parts of the flat are cluttered," he mused dryly. He dropped her bag on the foot of the bed and turned to her. "Is this going to be all right?"

"I was going to ask you that," she said. Seeing his questioning look, she went on, "Is this going to be okay? Me staying here?"

"Of course, why wouldn't it be? That's what a spare room is for. If I don't use it to put friends up for a few nights, it will just become another place to store books."

She smiled. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure…" her voice trailed off, unsure of how to approach the subject. She wasn't surprised when he picked it up himself.

"Ah," he nodded knowingly, "you mean Carol." When she nodded in return, he paused, then asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"

She couldn't think of a response to his change of subject other than, "Sure."

"Good." 

Outside the room he pointed to the door next to her own. "The loo."

"Bathroom."

"Right. And my room's at the end of the hall. I don't sleepwalk –as far as I know –so it should be an uneventful stay in that regard."

They walked back through the living room to the kitchen, which was just off to the left. He opened various cupboards and identified the contents.

"Cups and glasses. Plates and bowls. Saucepans. Cutlery. Food's over in the larder. There may actually be things in the fridge. Whether or not they're edible is another question. Quite frankly, I don't do a lot of cooking, but please, whatever I have here is yours; feel free to help yourself to anything."

Sara walked up to the fridge and smiled broadly. Seeing her expression, Tony tilted his head. She pointed to the paper magnetized to the metal. "Take out menus."

"Take-away," he helpfully corrected. "Great curry, that place." He turned and filled the kettle at the sink. "I hope you don't mind instant. I don't seem to have any real coffee."

"I'm enjoying tea these days. If you have it."

He lowered his head and gave her an indignant look from under raised eyebrows.

*

Several minutes later, they returned to the living room, cup of tea in hand, and sat across each other in black leather chairs.

Sara looked around and smirked. "Do you have these chairs set up this way on purpose?"

"Sorry?"

"Two chairs opposite each other. Very doctor/patient."

He hid a sly smile behind the rim of his cup. "So, how is Dr. Grissom?"

She covered her surprise with a quick retort. "Is this a way to get the conversation back to Carol?"

The cup paused at his lips. Taking a sip of the hot liquid, he then continued, "So, how did you find London, then?"

Her eyes lit up. "I loved it!"

"Do tell. Did you do the whole double-decker bus tour?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Did all the touristy things. The bus thing. Piccadilly Circus. The Science Museum. The Tower of London. But once I got that out of my system, I did other things. Spent an entire afternoon in Hyde Park. Went to Kensington Market and bought things U.S Customs won't believe." He smiled at this. "Spent another day enjoying your very efficient subway system."

"You mean the Tube?" Tony asked. When she nodded, he mirrored the motion. "Fantastic microcosm of humanity. I often wonder, as I look at the occupants of my carriage, if a crisis were to occur while we were all trapped together, which one of us would be the first to snap." 

She laughed.

"And I always come to the same conclusion," he went on. He waited for the questioning look he knew was coming. "Me. Without a doubt, me."

She laughed more broadly.

"Your smile has been the source of much joy since I met you."

In contrast to her surprise, she closed her mouth firmly. Shaking her head, she commented, "What is it with you quiet brilliant types, who just say such startling things like that out of the blue?"

Tony shrugged. "Perhaps to us, it's not startling; it's a simple statement of fact. Very logical to us quiet brilliant types." He gave an over-dramatic worldly sigh when he breathed the word "brilliant". When she smiled again, he added, "I get the feeling you haven't smiled much lately. How's work?"

"Work's good," she answered. When Tony didn't respond, letting the silence lengthen, she continued, "Work's been… tough. Lots of politics, more than I'm used to. And it makes me feel… off-guard, like I'm a step behind what's going on."

"You're used to being able to categorize things."

"It's part of my job, yeah. I look at so many things in black and white. Case. Evidence. Investigation. Solution. But throw in people and it just fucks things up."

Now it was Tony's turn to smile. "Yes, the unpredictable natures of people have a tendency to do that to a situation."

"You know, I'm adult enough to know I can't control everything; that sometimes things are out of my control. But I like to know why things happen, even if I can't do anything about it. Politics, jockeying for position and favour, I just don't get it."

"So continue doing things that are in your control. Draw confidence in your strengths and let others do what it is they're going to do anyway." He took another sip of his tea. "What else is bothering you?"

She absently tapped the side of her cup and looked everywhere but at Tony. "Ahhh…"

"Yes?"

She pursed her lips and plowed ahead. "Remember what you said to me about Grissom, when I drove you to the airport?"

"From the information you gave me and the short time I spent in his company- " he looked up at the ceiling, as if reading notes. "Sense of abandonment, emotional fear of attachment. Funnels emotional energy into work rather than through relationships, if I recall correctly." She nodded. "And that's changed?"

"No. God, no." She ran a hand through her hair. "But… say you heard someone reveal something deeply personal that involved you, but you weren't supposed to know?"

"You overheard something meant to be in confidence?"

"No, not really. I just… he didn't know I was there."

"An admission of feelings? Feelings towards you?"

"Yes."

"Good or bad?"

"Good." She thought about it again. "Great, in fact. But… I'm not supposed to know. He would die if he knew I knew. So we're in the exact same position we were before I overheard."

"Except now you know."

"But how does that help me? How do I help him?"

He looked into his cup. "Sara… perhaps this is another example of things out of your control. Another example of you letting people do what they're going to do anyway. Give him time. Now you know. Chances are, he'll come to you when he's ready."

"Is that how things are going with you and Carol?"

He gave a short cough of surprise. "Which one of us is the psychologist again?"

Her raised eyebrow and small smirk didn't help. The chime of the doorbell echoed from the hallway.

"Saved by the bell?" Sara quipped.

Standing up, he looked as if he was about to say something, but instead, shook his head in mock defeat and went to answer the door.

*


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Spent all that time thanking my beta reader, then posted the un-beta'd version of chapter two. D'oh. I've re-posted the correct version. As mentioned the first time, chapters will be posted every second day, and there are about five chapters after this one. Thanks for reading.

*

"I see your head's still attached to your body," Carol drawled as she crossed the threshold.

"Very funny. Come on."

Once in the living room, Tony made the introductions. "Carol Jordan, Sara Sidle. Sara Sidle, Carol Jordan."

The two women shook hands and Carol was the first to speak. 

"Very nice to meet you, Sara. Tony's told me a lot about you. I never got to thank you for the fantastic work you did on that serial killer case."

Sara deflected the compliment. "Tony broke the case; I was glad to be along for the ride."

"Ooh," Tony declared, "my head is getting too big for the room; I'd better go into the kitchen."

"Your kitchen is smaller than your living room," Carol noted.

"Do you want a cup of tea or not?"

"Right, right. Go on." As soon as Tony was out of earshot, Carol whispered, "Help me move the chairs. I feel like a patient with them facing each other." 

Sara smiled and helped Carol drag one of the large armchairs until it was more adjacent to its partner. Carol then quickly darted to the corner and pulled a spare chair into the newly formed circle.

"Now I feel like I'm in a therapy session," Sara remarked.

Carol stood back and took in the scene with a critical eye. "Hmmm, you're right. But at least we'll all feel like we're in therapy."

At that moment, Tony appeared in the doorway and the two women quickly sat down. 

"I see," was all he said handing Carol her cup of tea.

"So what were you two talking about before I so rudely interrupted?" Carol asked.

"The difficulties involved in a relationship when the man is an emotionally repressed basket case," Sara offered.

Carol laughed out loud and Tony's head snapped up. "I believe what Sara meant to imply was that she's having difficulty in a personal matter."

Seeing the reaction of the two, Sara grinned. "Yeah, that, too."

Carol looked at Tony. "Have you two eaten?" He shook his head. "Why don't you go and get us a take-away?"

Tony stood. "I'll ring them."

Carol's eyes narrowed and she repeated, "Why don't you go and get us a take-away? You've got that brilliant curry place down the road."

"But… oh. Right. I suppose I could use the exercise." He gave Carol an anxious look. "Are you sure I can leave you two alone?"

"Nervous?" the blonde asked.

"Very," Tony admitted.

*

"You don't mind, do you?" Carol asked. "Me telling Tony to step out for a bit?"

"No, not at all."

"It's just part of my make-up; straight ahead, no bullshit, getting to the meat of the matter. And it's hard to have a girl talk with a man in the room," Carol smirked. "I hope that doesn't bother you."

"I can't say it's something I normally do, but… yeah, I think I'm okay with that. Just so long as the meat reference was a figurative one." Carol tilted her head in confusion. "Vegetarian," Sara said.

"Ah, got it. So tell me, is working in a male-dominated field with punters who think you got the job because of your sex any different in America than it is over here?"

Sara feigned a thoughtful pose then replied, "Um, no."

Carol gave a knowing nod. "Well that's it, then. I think we're going to get along famously."

"Do you enjoy your job?"

Carol pressed her lips together and gave it some serious thought. "Yeah, yeah, I do. That's not to say I don't have my moments of wondering what the hell I'm doing in this profession. I do look around the office at times and wonder why I put up with so much of the politics. But I just have to solve one case for the joy to come back. And despite the fact that it often seems I only come across the worst of people, I have met some others who have shown me otherwise."

"Tony," Sara said.

A small smile appeared in Carol's expression. "Yeah."

"You know, I think we really will get along famously. Everything you just said sounded like everything I've thought about my own job."

"So who's your Tony?" Seeing Sara's shock, Carol quickly said, "Sorry. Didn't mean to overstep."

"No, it's… okay. I'm just not used to talking about it out loud. Avoidance through silence is the motto of the day. Every day." Sara smiled and looked down into her cup, her tea long gone cold. Without looking up, she forged ahead, surprised she was about to share something so personal with a stranger. And yet, there was an odd sense of relief to be able to say things aloud to someone other than her reflection in the mirror. "I see a lot of the same things in Tony that I see in Grissom. How do you…" She wasn't sure how much further she should go; how far along Tony and Carol had gone.

Carol picked up on this hesitancy. "Tony and I… are at a very tentative stage right now. Glacial, in fact," she added with a grin.

"Boy, do I know that feeling," she admitted with some relief. "And it's…"

"Frustrating?"

"Yeah."

Carol looked around to find a place to put her cup. Finding no table in the area, she simply placed it on a stack of books nearby. "Sara, I don't know this Grissom of yours, and I might be entirely off the mark, but the best thing I can say to you is, don't back down and don't give up. Giving him space in his life doesn't mean you can't be in it."

Chuckling, Sara said, "Not surprisingly, Tony told me the exact opposite." 

"Oh really?" Carol sighed. "These men…" she waved a hand in the air as she tried to formulate her thoughts. "These men will curl in on themselves emotionally if given half the chance. Less than half the chance!"

"So I should poke him with a stick every now and then?" Sara offered good-naturedly.

Carol didn't even bother suppressing her laughter. A cough at the door caused both women to turn sharply.

"What's this I hear about a stick?" Tony asked. "And more importantly, should I be worried?"

*

"Do you not have one coffee table in the entire flat?" Carol asked incredulously as she did a complete turn about the room. "And why have I never noticed this before?"

"Because you usually stake a claim on my desk and I'm left sitting on the floor."

"Right. Christmas. I'll make the note." She narrowed her eyes at Tony. "Speaking of notes, I note you left and returned awfully quickly. Did you call on your mobile on the way out?"

Tony chose to ignore the question and instead examined the label of a container he pulled from a large paper bag. "Vegetarian curry. Definitely yours," he said as he handed it to Sara. "Vegetarian curry. How odd. I always associate meat with curry. Hmmm."

"You really must have been worried about leaving us alone."

"It's not polite as a host to leave a guest for too long," he meekly defended.

"Bollocks," Sara said. Carol and Tony both stopped and stared. "I've been waiting forever to say that," Sara remarked proudly.

"Absolutely fantastic!" Carol praised. "How much do you like your job back in the States? Because we could always use another thinker around here and you're already picking up the language."

"Picking it up. I have no idea what half of it means, though."

Tony organized a stack of books into a makeshift table and began eating. "I forgot to ask you; how are you finding driving on the other side of the road?"

She copied Tony's table building and sat down. "Well, driving here from London was okay, but I didn't trust myself at all in London. When I couldn't manage walking across the street without nearly getting hit, I knew driving wasn't for me."

Carol laughed. "They have it painted on the curb, you know. 'Please look right'."

"I caught that the second time."

"You're lucky you had a second time," Tony noted gravely. "We lose more tourists every year the first time round."

Their laughter was interrupted by the phone, which Tony scrambled chaotically to locate. Carol quickly unearthed it from under a pile of loose papers on his desk. 

"I know, I know," he said as he saw her pointed look. "My next day off, clean as a whistle, you watch." Her look never wavered. "Right. Just give me the phone, would you?" His smile slowly faded as he listened to the voice on the other end of the phone. "Right. We'll be there shortly."

Carol wiped her mouth with a napkin and was standing before Tony had hung up the phone. "They found another body." It was a statement, not a question. 

"Yeah."

Carol began collecting her cup and her container when Sara stood up. "I'll get that," Sara said. "You guys go."

"I'm sorry," Tony apologized.

"For what? It's your job. Believe me, I know."

"Would you like to come?" Carol offered. "You're more than welcome. I mean, you'd have to promise me that you'd stay in the car obviously, but you're a professional. I'll take that chance." When she saw her hesitation, she added, "Besides, I wouldn't mind another set of eyes on this one. It's driving me round the bend, I can tell you that much."

Sara thought about it, struggling with her natural curiosity and instinct to dive right in and help. But she knew she wouldn't be able to be involved as much as she'd like, which would just aggravate her. "I'd better not. I appreciate the offer, though."

"Okay," Carol nodded. "The offer will stand for the length of your stay, since I don't see this being solved any time soon. Three murders and we're not a damn step closer." Turning to Tony, she said, "You ready?" 

"Not sure I ever am," he admitted.

"No, neither am I," Carol echoed.

Tony turned to Sara. "There's a spare set of keys under the potted plant on the second step from the bottom. Don't feel you have to stick around here all night."

"I'd ask you how long you'll be, but I know how that goes," Sara smiled. Extending her hand, she said, "It was really nice meeting you, Carol. I really hope we'll get a chance to meet again."

Carol returned the gesture and the smile. "A real pleasure, Sara. And we'll definitely talk again before you go."

*

The scenery blurred by as Carol drove to the crime scene. Before completely donning the well-worn persona of police detective, she remarked to Tony, "I really like Sara. Thank you for pushing me to come tonight."

"Did I push you?" 

She paused. "Well, all right, you didn't push. But I felt… obligated to meet her. She's your friend and as your… friend, I felt it was something I should do for you."

"Is that what you are, Carol? My… friend?"

She tried to focus on the road, but couldn't help but glance over at him, once, then again. Her mouth opened and closed the same amount of times, wordlessly.

"I'm glad you like Sara," Tony went on, oblivious, or at least giving the aura of being oblivious to the question directed at Carol. "She's easy to read, and yet somehow keeps me pleasantly off-guard. Perhaps that's why I thought you two would get along so well." He barely hid the grin that peeked out the corner of his mouth.

As they got closer to the scene, Carol pushed more and more of her personal image deeper down. She clutched at the steering wheel as her mind began to sort out clues and theories of the case. But Tony's last comment was enough to elicit one of her own. "Hello pot, kettle on line two," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

The battle to hide his grin was lost.

*

Tony lifted the yellow crime tape and followed Carol through. They approached a young man whose boyish face and short stature made him look somewhat out of place amongst the large bulky men who were milling about the scene.

"Kevin," Carol called out.

The young man turned. "Evenin' guv. Dr. Hill."

Pleasantries aside, Carol asked, "What have you got for us?"

"With all due respect to Robert Plant, the song remains the same, I'm afraid." 

He led them into the small makeshift plastic "room" that had been assembled around the body and immediate crime scene. It served not only to help preserve the area, but to prevent any onlookers from getting a better view. 

Once inside, Kevin continued. "Female, fully clothed, small hand towel over the face, no sign of trauma, unless of course you count the severe bruising around the neck. No sign of sexual assault, but as with the others, it's hard to tell when the vic's fully clothed. I bet the coroner will give us evidence of sexual assault after his preliminary examination. Probably choked to death with a cord or rope as well, like the other three."

"Hessler's determination of a serial killer met," Tony spoke for the first time. Seeing the look of confusion on Kevin's face, he went on, "Four. Classic definition of a serial killer is four deaths."

Kevin grunted. "I didn't need to read some book to know it was a serial killer. Knew that two murders ago."

Tony eyebrows raised. "But there is no obvious connection between any of these women. Different ages, different social positions, different personal backgrounds. Found at different times of the day, different geographical areas. Even the hair colour hasn't been the same- three brunettes, one blonde."

"Yeah, but the ethnic backgrounds are the same. Most serial killers stay within their own ethnic group. And the signature's the same; strangled, placed at a scene, towel over their faces."

Tony smiled. "We'll make a good criminal profiler out of you yet, Kev."

The young man shrugged in an attempt to hide his appreciation of the praise. "What gets me is the towel. Why cover their faces?"

"Remorse," Tony offered. "Goes with the careful placement of the body. Almost a tenderness. He doesn't want to look at their faces because he feels remorse or guilt."

"Well, I wish just once these buggers would feel remorse or guilt before killing someone." The voice belonged to a towering hulk of a man who just entered the shelter.

"Hello, Don," Carol said. "And what have you got for us?"

He glanced at his notes. "Lynn George. Twenty four years old. University student studying anthropology. We're trying to contact the family now."

Carol glanced down at the young woman and saw the utter waste of a life. "Damn," she whispered. Sighing, she asked, "What are the chances anyone saw our infamous blue car at the scene?" 

"I can't believe this guy would be so careless to show up at the scene again," Kevin said. "And in the same car."

"They're only brilliant until we catch them, Kevin," Tony noted.

"Yeah, then they're just like the rest of the bloody scumbags we put in jail," Don growled.

"Right," Carol said, diffusing the situation. "Don, take Kevin and start canvassing the area. Knock on doors; see if anyone saw anything."

The two men nodded and exited. Carol watched as Tony knelt down and intently looked at the body.

"Anything?" she asked.

He looked up and frowned. "I'm not picking up any magical vibes, if that's what you mean."

She sighed. "Sorry. Sorry. I just thought you might have seen something Kevin missed."

Tony stood up. Shaking his head, it was his turn to apologize. "No, I'm sorry, Carol. Signature's the same. No apparent aberration in the pattern."

"Well, I've got a pattern of my own to stick to- pinning this girl's picture to the bulletin board and wondering when we're ever going to get a damn break."

He moved closer but didn't touch her. She smiled at his subtle gesture of comfort.

"Do you want a ride back, or do you want to come with me?" As the words came out, she felt the flush creep over her face. "That didn't quite sound right, did it?"

This time, he did touch her. Giving her arm a light squeeze, he said, "Sounded fine to me. I'll go with you; see if we can't figure something out from all of this mess."

*

"Jane Morris, 46, housewife. Emma Smythe, 33, teacher. Sue Graham, 37, commercial artist." Carol pinned the photo of the latest victim on the board in line with the other three women, and jotted down the pertinent information. "Lynn George, 24, university student." She stepped back and looked at the board. "What is it that connects all four of these women?"

Tony joined her and handed her a cup of coffee. "Besides their manner of death…" he glanced repeatedly between the four photographs. "I honestly don't know. But there must be something. Something that he saw in all four women that triggered something in him."

"Yes, but considering he's an absolute nutcase, we may not be qualified to think along the same wavelength."

He gave a self-depreciating smile. "That's where I come in."

Unfortunately, three hours later, they were no closer to being on the same wavelength than they were when they started.

"You're losing your touch," Carol joked.

He looked skyward, startled at his realization. "I'm happy." 

About what, Carol wasn't sure, but she knew if she waited for a few moments, his train of thought would get on a track she could follow.

"I'm happy," he repeated. "Happier than I've been in a long, long time." He chanced a quick glance in her direction, but didn't say another word.

Carol's eyes narrowed as she tried to fill in his verbal gaps. Then her eyes widened slightly. "Oh. I see. You're happy… and this happiness is affecting your ability to let yourself delve too deeply into the head of a killer."

"Most serial killers aren't what I would consider 'happy' people."

"No, I would think not," she agreed, but couldn't help smile at the implications of his newfound discovery of himself.

He caught her smile and deadpanned, "Damn you for making me happy, Carol."

She pursed her lips together to mask her own happiness, though her eyes gave her away. "Well, we'll just have to work harder, won't we, Dr. Hill?"

"Absolutely, Inspector Jordan."

"But first, bed." The flush returned. "Why am I always saying things the wrong way?" She didn't wait for whatever response was hovering on the tip of his tongue. "What I mean to say is, it's almost midnight and you should go to bed. Give your mind a bit of a rest and we'll try again tomorrow. You look like hell. We'll go see the coroner, see what he has to say."

He frowned but didn't argue. "Will you come pick me up in the morning? My car's making an awful racket."

"Did you top up the oil like I told you the last time it was making an awful racket?"

He opened his mouth to speak, then gave it some thought.

"I'll pick you up, 8am sharp," Carol sighed.

Leaning over, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips and stood up. "Right." 

He didn't hear a response as he left, though none was probably forthcoming from the woman leaning against the table, her mouth agape. 

*


	3. Chapter 3

*

A flicker of movement caught in the corner of her eye made Sara turn her head, to see Tony padding across the living room, to the kitchen, oblivious to her presence. A moment later, he returned with a glass in his hand, his eyes closed as he trod the well-worn path to his bedroom. Less than a minute later he poked his tousled, tired head around the corner and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"You know, I was halfway to my bedroom when part of me said, 'Dear Tony, he who lives alone. There is someone in your living room. Perhaps you should investigate, you stupid sod'."

"Sorry," she said, though her grin undermined her sincerity.

He replayed earlier events in his head. "You weren't sitting there when I came in at midnight, were you?" 

"No, I was in bed when you came in. Got up for a glass of water and couldn't go back to sleep."

"Oh, good. I mean, good that I'm not losing my mind." He came into the living room and sat down. "Everything all right?" he asked. "Bed not comfortable?  


"No, everything's fine. I don't know how to thank you for being so good to me."

He waved it off and smiled. "Insomnia?"

She shrugged. "A bit, yeah. And almost two weeks later and I'm still not used to the time change. So, while it's…" she glanced at the clock, "four in the morning here, it's 8pm in Vegas. I'd be up, getting ready for work." She held up the book on her lap. "Besides, I've been dying to check out your books since I walked into your house."

"What has caught your attention?"

She read the title. "The Biological Revolution in Psychology: A Scientific Study". 

"That should cure the insomnia." They laughed then Tony's face got serious. "Where did you find that book? I've been looking for it for ages."

"It was behind that book shelf in the corner. You probably put it on top and it slipped behind it."

Tony looked at her, puzzled, then looked around the room. Dazed, he slowly stood up and did a complete turn about the room. "You picked up my books." He made his way to the bookcase that took up the entire wall. Running his fingers over the spines of the books, he whispered amazed, "You organized them in alphabetical order."

"By author."

"By author." He turned and looked at her.

"Sorry, I just couldn't sleep and…"

"No, no," he interrupted. "It's quite all right. More than all right, actually. But now where will I eat?" he joked.

"Well, you could always try eating in the kitchen. And if that doesn't work, Christmas is only four months away. Try to look surprised when Carol gives you a coffee table."

Tony smiled then turned back to the shelves. "But I have over 500 books," he marveled at her task.

"Six hundred and eighty three," she corrected.

"Six hundred and eighty three," he repeated. "And you sorted them all."

"It relaxes me," she explained. "Just think of it as my way of saying thank you for all you've done."

"I didn't expect librarian services from you."

She smiled. "I know. But I was glad to do it anyway. Just consider yourself lucky that I couldn't find any tools or it would have been your car instead."

Feigning seriousness, he said, "Oh, now that I might have taken you up on. The engine's making this strange grinding sound."

Her smile grew into a laugh. "I'll check it in the morning."

He sat down across from her again. "So is this what you do when you can't sleep? Read? Organize your CD collection alphabetically by artist, then wonder if you should organize little subdirectories by genre or year?"

She gently kicked him with her foot. "That's not funny. I do that!" His look was of pure innocence, but she decided to let it pass. "What's your cure for insomnia?"

"A stiff drink and Lara Croft."

"What?"

"Lara Croft. Tomb Raider. I play video games."

"You're kidding."

He tilted his head towards the T.V stand where a Playstation was installed.

"I saw that," she said, "I just thought you had nephews or something."

"Only child," he corrected. Looking at the T.V, he went on, "Helps me relax. Takes my mind off… whatever."

"Like the case you're working on right now?"

"Yes."

"How's that going? Or should I ask?"

He shook his head. "No, it's fine. We've talked about cases for the last ten months; this one should be no different. So long as you don't mind talking shop while you're supposed to be on vacation."

She waved him off. "Vacations are over-rated," she smiled as she tucked her legs underneath her and got comfortable in the large chair. "Besides, I'll be back at work in four days. Need to work off the rust."

"I highly doubt any rust finds its way to that mind of yours," he replied. Pulling his chair closer to hers, he went over the same ground he shared with Carol less than five hours ago. Sara nodded at particular points, squinted her eyes at other bits. "And that's it," he concluded.

She lightly chewed on the inside of her bottom lip before speaking. "And there's absolutely no connection?"

"Well, of course there's some sort of connection, but none that we've found, no."

"Schooling? Place of birth? Hobbies?"

"No, no, and no," he answered. "Jane Morris wasn't even born in England. And there's no sign that these four women had ever met each other."

"Gyms? Libraries? Favourite book stores or coffee shops?"

"No."

"Recent deliveries to all four women? On-line shopping?"

Tony decided to forego speaking and shook his head instead.

"Any patterns in the names? Maybe there's some sort of message there?"

He couldn't help but laugh. Seeing her narrowed eyes, he explained, "Sorry. I completely underestimated the similarities between you and Carol. No wonder she likes you so much. I've met her verbal equivalent." Sara's inquisitive gaze never wavered. "She does the same thing," he went on. "But it's all internal. I can see the wheels spinning in her head as she poses these questions and challenges to herself inwardly. You just express it right out there for all to hear."

"Probably because most of the time, I'm not expected to offer theories that drive the case. The answer is already in the evidence given to me; I just have find it. It must be hard being a cop; all eyes are on you to give a theory for others to run with. You'd better make it a good one if you don't want to waste everyone's time." Tony nodded. "And, as much as we'd all like to think otherwise, there are more eyes on you when you're a woman. So I can only imagine how careful Carol must think she needs to be in order to keep her foothold in the boys' club."

"And you don't feel that way?"

She gave it some thought. "Sometimes, yeah," she admitted. "But then, I'm not in charge, so I can always hand off responsibility to the boss."

"I have a hard time seeing you deflect responsibility," Tony said.

She smiled. "Well, I didn't say I do it, but it helps knowing that I could, if I wanted. Does Carol have that option?"

He playfully screwed up his face. "She could always hand it off to the psychologist. Tell them the head doctor came up with the idea. They'd nod understandingly and move on ."

"But she wouldn't deflect responsibility either, would she?"

"No. She's strong enough to accept the consequences of things."

"And she cares about you too much to lay it at your feet."

He paused. "What were we talking about again?" She smirked and he glanced over at the clock in an attempt to change the subject. "God, Carol's coming to pick me up in less than four hours," he groaned. Standing, he extended his hand down to Sara and helped her get up. "I know you didn't feel comfortable coming to the crime scene last night, but how would you feel about coming down to the station in the morning? I wouldn't mind you looking at what we've got, and I know Carol would really appreciate it."

"You just want someone else to suffer along with you at eight in the morning," she joked.

*

"You still look like hell," Carol greeted as Tony held the door open for her to enter.

"Thank you, Carol. You always say the nicest things to me. And good morning to you, too."

She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Satisfied that the shoe of surprise was on the other foot for once, she made her way up the stairs. "Mmmm. Smells like you've been up long enough to put coffee on. Fantastic." She turned. "It's not that instant crap, is it?"

He rubbed his hands over his face and through his hair, leaving him looking all of seven years old. "No, it's not that instant crap," he answered wearily. "You can thank Sara. She went out last night and bought the real thing. And woke up early enough to make it."

"You're not a very good host, are you?"

He simply narrowed his eyes and gave her a soft push into his flat. "You know where the kitchen is."

Walking through the living room, she grasped his arm. "Oh my God, Tony!" she exclaimed.

Alarmed, he stopped dead in his tracks. "What? What is it?"

She glanced over at Sara in the small kitchen and gave a small wink. Putting her free hand over her heart, she took a breath. "I can see your floors!"

He frowned. "What?" Then he saw the look of amusement pass between Sara and Carol. "Oh. Ha, ha. Not funny." 

As they entered the kitchen, he gestured for Carol to join Sara at the table and he walked over to the counter. Pouring a cup for Carol, he spoke over his shoulder. "I'm not sure it's safe for me to let you two work together."

"Work together?" Carol repeated then looked at Sara. "Have you changed your mind about looking over the case?"

She shrugged. "Well, Tony and I ended up talking about it last night and I thought coming down to the station couldn't hurt. As long as it won't get you into trouble."

Carol reached for the cup Tony placed in front of her. "No, don't worry about it. I'll make up some bullshit story about why you're there." She took a sip and nodded appreciatively before adding, "Were you two able to come up with anything last night?"

Tony shook his head and Sara put the gesture into words. "No. I had more questions than Tony had answers."

"Which just goes to show you how maddening this case is, because that doesn't happen very often," Carol grinned in Tony's direction.

"I'll take that as a compliment, thank you very much," he replied.

"Are you working on any other cases?" Sara asked Carol.

"Not at the moment, no. Generally we have three or four on-going, but due to the nature of this one, everything else has been demoted. This is it." She took another sip. "I'll never complain about simple burglaries or homicides again after this one, I tell you." She looked over at Tony. "Are you going to wear that today? You look like you slept in it."

He tilted his head, then looked down at his T-shirt in confusion. "You mean this?" When he saw her nod, he answered, "I did sleep in it."

"Well, go on then," she ordered. "I told you I was picking you up at 8am. And it is now," she glanced at her watch, "Eight twenty, and you're not even dressed yet."

"It's her fault I was up 'til all hours of the morning," he said defensively as he meekly pointed to Sara.

"Tony…" Carol began.

"Right, right," he interrupted, and left the room.

*

"Welcome to the madness," Carol said by way of introducing Sara to the chaotic police station. "Come on, I'll show you where we bang our heads against the wall."

As the trio made their way past the obstacle course of desks and chairs and bodies, Sara was well aware of the heads turning as she walked by. After years on the job, anything new – or anyone – was immediately given the investigative eye. She pretended not to notice.

Tony leaned into her as they continued walking. "Just wait until they hear your accent. You'll be the talk of the office for sure."

Sara turned her head slightly and whispered playfully, "What accent?"

Carol pushed open the door to the large conference room. Two men, perched on the edge of the long table, their backs to the door, were apparently contemplating the bulletin board. Sara smiled brightly, in anticipation of their curious looks as they turned their heads in response to scrape of the opening door.

"Hey," she said automatically.

The two men looked at each other then at Carol. 

"Don Merrick, Kevin Geoffries, this is Sara Sidle. She's a friend of Tony's. Come from the States… to examine and compare techniques and procedures of British policing." Carol slyly looked over at Sara who recognized this as the "bullshit story"; a way for Carol to cover her ass should anyone ask why a complete stranger was allowed past the information desk at the front of the building.

"A friend of Dr. Hill's," the taller, heavier man whom Carol introduced as Don said. "So are you a head checker, too, Dr. Sidle?"

She laughed, which seemed to put the other younger man at ease. "No, unfortunately, the closest I get to a doctor is standing beside Tony or my boss. I'm a criminalist; I work in forensics."

"Ah," he seemed pleased with this answer. "So you work in real evidence, then?"

Sara noticed the slightly disparaging glance that Don threw Tony. She caught Tony's eye sympathetically and he shrugged his shoulders imperceptibly, as if to say, "What can you do?"

She returned her attention to Don and answered, "You know, out of all the things my boss has ever said to me, one of the most important things he said was, 'Follow what cannot lie- the evidence'."

"That's good advice," Don agreed.

She nodded. "Yep. But in my field, I've also learned you've got to look hard for evidence. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. Sometimes the most important clues aren't the ones you can see."

Kevin pursed his lips together and nodded thoughtfully, a gesture mirrored by both Carol and Tony. Don shrugged good-naturedly and conceded the point. "All right then, Ms. Sidle." He stepped away from the board both he and Kevin had been examining earlier. "What aren't we seeing here?"

As the big man stepped away, the board was revealed to be a collection of information and theories of the case Tony had shared with her the night before. Pictures of the four women ran along the top of the board with their personal information underneath. Any similarity was circled in red. There was very little of it. Beyond the obvious connection of their sex, the only thing the women seemed to have in common was the cause of their death. She didn't bother asking anything that the board could already answer. Which only left her with one line of questioning.

"What does forensics say?"

"Nothing yet," Kevin answered. "The towels found over their faces aren't from Harrods. They're of the garden variety."

"They were all sexually assaulted. Any DNA?"

"No DNA at the scene or on the body," Don said. "Nothing under the fingernails. He cleans 'em up pretty good, dresses them, then dumps them."

"Places them," Tony corrected. "That's important."

"Yeah, well whatever. Doesn't get us closer to finding the bastard, does it?"

Sara peered closer at the picture of Lynn George. "Cause of death?"

"Strangulation with a cord or a rope of some kind," Carol replied.

Tapping the photo, Sara said, "Not this one."

The other four stopped in their tracks. Carol was the first to speak.

"What?"

"Look at this void along her neck." Everyone craned forward. "A definite break of the strangulation line. Like she had her hand between the cord and her throat." She held up her hand to demonstrate what she meant.

"Bloody hell, she's right," Don exclaimed.

Kevin voiced his confusion. "But the rest of the signature's the same."

"But something happened between stages," Tony remarked. "Something broke his pattern. What was it?"

"Maybe the pathologist can give us a better insight." Turning to the other two men, Carol instructed, "Don, you come with us. Kevin, any word on the car?"

"Nothing from the neighbours, but I'm getting the security tapes from the local traffic office this morning."

"Great. I want you to go over every frame of that tape and see what you can come up with."

Don tilted his head towards Sara. "I like her. Can she come with us?"

*


	4. Chapter 4

A/N- Just thought I'd clear up a thing or two. First, my beta reader is papiliondae (there seems to be some confusion when I use her first name. LOL!). Second, the characters of Tony Hill, Carol Jordan et al are from the book/tv series "The Wire in the Blood". Not "The Wire". Two very different shows! *grin* (And if you get BBCAmerica, they are showing the three eps of the first series of "Wire in the Blood" right now! Starting January 19th, they will show the new four eps of the second series. Check that out if you can.)

*

Hearing the door open, the pathologist spoke before turning. "I am a knight in shining armour!" The first face he saw when he did turn was Sara's. "Oh, beg your pardon, miss." He looked at the other three, waiting for some kind of explanation.

Carol smirked. "Sara, this is the newly knighted James Danforth who moonlights as our pathologist. James, this is Sara Sidle, a criminalist from the States, doing some professional research here in England."

"Ah, right. Cheers," he said by way of greeting.

"Hey," Sara returned.

"So, what have you got for us, Sir Danforth?" Don asked.

"Quite a few things in fact," Danforth answered, ignoring Don's jibe. Drawing them over to the metal table where Lynn George lay he continued. "First of all, cause of death isn't like the rest. She wasn't strangled to death, though the attempt was certainly made."

Don nodded knowingly. "She got her hand up and prevented the strangulation." The pathologist didn't hide his look of surprise. Shrugging, Don went on. "There's a void in the strangulation line across the throat. Like she got a hand between her throat and the cord."

Both Carol and Sara raised a hand to their mouths, covering their smile. Tony looked on, slack-jawed.

"Very good, Don," the pathologist praised in amazement. "So how did she die?"

"Well, that's more your job to find out than mine, innit?"

Danforth raised an eyebrow, but carried on. "Right. Severe bruising on the shoulder blades, like the others. As if she had been held face down."

"How long has she been dead?" Carol asked.

"The onset of rigor looks to put the time of death around two days ago."

Sara gently laid her fingertips on the exposed forearm of Lynn George, and brushed back and forth gently. When she caught Tony watching her, she began to pull back until she saw his expression warm to her gesture.

"Sexually assaulted as well?" Don growled.

Danforth nodded. "I did a complete work up on her, but I don't suspect anything will come back. Chloroform residue in her throat and nasal cavity; same as the others. No apparent bruising on the wrists or ankles, so she wasn't tied up. Same again. But this is interesting." He pointed to two large dark bruises on her chest, on other side of the sternum. "The others might have had indiscriminant cuts and bruises, but nothing of this magnitude."

Sara bent closer and the realization struck her. "Burked."

The pathologist nodded appreciatively at Sara, then turned to the other three. "She's right."

"Burked?" Don asked. "As in William Burke? The serial killer?"

When Tony saw Carol's silent question, he answered, "William Burke, late 18th century grave robber provided cadavers for Edinburgh anatomy classes by pressing down on their chests and suffocating them."

"Yeah, I knew that, I was just wondering how Don knew."

Don made scowled at Carol's smirk. "Ha, ha, very funny. I read books too, you know."

"Anyway," Danforth interrupted. "Positional suffocation. The evidence of bruising shows the damage occurring before death. My guess? He started by straddling her waist, but ended up shifting so that his knees were against her chest. Probably held her arms down with his hands. There's some pressure point bruising on the forearms. But here's the most important thing. I found more than traces of chloroform in her nose. I also found dried blood. At first I thought it was just hers; that she had been struck at some point, but there's no indication of a facial injury of any kind, let alone around the nasal cavity. I've sent a sample to the lab. Should come back sometime tomorrow with the results."

"You think it could be the killer's blood?" Tony asked.

"Couldn't say for sure, but you might get lucky."

Don frowned. "The killer's blood in the victim's nose? How the hell would it get there?"

Danforth shrugged. "Not my job, is it?"

"Thanks, James. Let me know when you hear back on those results," Carol said.

"Will do. Nice to meet you, Miss Sidle."

"You, too, Sir Danforth," Sara smiled.

*

The group walked down the hall and tossed out ideas and questions about what they had just learned.

"He's killed all the rest from behind, after assaulting them," Don began. "So what was different about this one? I thought he didn't like looking at the faces?"

"Maybe nothing in the killer changed. Maybe there was something different about the victim that led to the change in pattern," Tony mused.

Carol pondered this. "Well, there's been no apparent pattern in the victims as of yet, so it's hard to determine what was different about this one. They've all been different."

"This victim was younger than the rest," Sara offered. "Maybe she put up more of a struggle?"

"Wasn't she on the athletics team?" Don asked no one in particular. "But why not just strangle her with his bare hands or knock her round the head with a heavy object?"

"Part of it is the difficulty he would have in committing the deed while looking at her," Tony answered. "But you're right, Don. Knowing you had to kill her, being at risk of her getting away and you getting caught, panic would set in and you would do whatever was necessary to prevent that from happening. Why not just a quick bash? Get it over with?" He saw both Sara and Carol flinch at his words. "Sorry."

Sara waved it off. "What you need to do is re-enact the crime."

"What?" Don asked incredulously. 

"We need to go back to the station and walk through the crime."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," the cop retorted dryly.

*

"Here, help me move this table, Don," Sara instructed, the group now back in the large conference room at the police station. Tony and Carol carefully slid the bulletin board out of the way. Sara looked around. "Do you have any string or cord?"

Tony yanked at his collar. "Here, use my tie."

"Thanks." The space now cleared, she began. "Okay, how tall was Lynn George?"

"Five foot eight," Carol answered.

"Then that's me," Sara said. "Now, we don't know the height of the killer, but we can assume he's taller than the victims in order to use the chloroform properly. Easier to reach down and press the cloth or whatever over the mouth than it is to reach up. How tall was the tallest victim?"

Don glanced at the board. "Jane Morris was a tall one; five foot eleven."

"Well, that leaves you out as the lead in this re-enactment, Tony," Sara smiled. "So…" she turned to Don.

"Oh, that's great. I get to play a killer."

Kevin walked in and stopped in his tracks. "What's going on here then?"

"Don's got the lead in the school play," Carol quipped.

"Ah, right. I came in just in time." He poked his head out the door. "Oi! Come see this," he called out to the office.

"Great," Don muttered.

"You'll be fine," Sara soothed. "Okay, so say you've already knocked me out and… the rest. I'm face down and you've got the cord around my neck." She handed Don the tie and laid face down on the floor. When nothing happened, she craned her neck back. "You've got to get on top of me, Don."

"How come I didn't get offered this part?" Kevin asked.

Don glowered. "Not funny, you." He looked down at Sara, who was still half-twisted around to look at him. "I don't know how comfortable I am with this," but he straddled her waist and did as she had instructed.

"Okay, so you've got the cord around my neck, but somehow I manage to get one of my hands up between the cord and my neck," said Sara, her words describing her movements.

"But how do you end up going from this to facing me?"

In a flash, Sara twisted her lean frame around and flipped over underneath him. Although Don was still on top, they were now facing each other.

"Jesus Christ!" Don exclaimed, caught completely off-guard. In his momentary confusion, he let go of the tie, and now Sara's hands were completely free.

"Now you're in trouble, mate," someone commented from the door.

"I've got ten quid on the pretty brunette," another said.

"I might try to push you off or toss you somehow," Sara suggested, "but my first instinct is to go for your eyes. So I reach up." She mimed scratching his eyes. "What's your first instinct?"

He saw her hand come up again and he pulled his head back. "I'm getting the hell out of the way of those hands."

"What else?"

Don paused above her. "I… I don't know."

Sara began lightly slapping his face with her fingertips. People at the door began to laugh. Carol and Tony looked on in fascination. Don leaned back a bit to avoid one slap, but Sara was relentless. For every slap he missed, he got two in return.

"Stop that," he commanded. When she continued, he repeated, "Stop that, I mean it."

"Make me," she taunted. He tried to grab her hands, but she was struggling for all she was worth. "I'm fighting for my life here, Don. I want to get away by any means necessary. So I'm going to keep fighting until you stop me."

She started bucking underneath him in an attempt to throw him off of her. This action, along with her relentless hand flailing was becoming more than something Don could keep up with, so he shifted position until she stopped moving.

"Don," Tony said quietly.

The older man looked over. "What?"

Tony gave directions with his eyes. Don looked down and saw where he was. He had Sara's forearms pressed down into the floor. More importantly, he had his knees pressing down into her shoulders. 

"Damn! Sorry, sorry!" he apologized and quickly rolled off.

Sara relieved his anxiety. "It's okay. You didn't hurt me. But I could see how a prolonged stay in that position could do a lot of damage to someone. And that was only with your knees on my shoulders. I can only imagine the pressure of a large man's knees pushing down onto my chest."

He helped her stand up and rubbed her arms. "Sorry," he said again.

"Ah, listen to the gentle giant," Kevin said.

"Shut it," Don warned.

Tony came to Don's aid. "Take comfort in knowing you feel remorse over something considerably smaller in comparison to what happened to these women, Don."

"I bet she could have taken him if she really tried," the bettor at the door lamented.

"All right, all right, the show's over. Don't you all have work to do?" Carol queried.

As the group broke up, and those remaining played out the events in their head, Don spoke up. "Right. Okay, I get that now. She's a bit more athletic than the others, manages to turn around underneath him then starts for the face. He tries to grab her arms, but she won't stop struggling. He's losing the battle, so uses his knees to try and pin her down as well. Goes too far and the pressure on her chest suffocates her. But if it ends up being this bloke's blood, it doesn't explain how it got there."

"Blood?" Kevin asked, bewildered.

"The pathologist found dried blood in the victim's nose. He thinks it could actually belong to our killer," Carol filled him in.

"Really? Well, how did it get there?"

"Did I not just ask that?" Don replied tersely.

They lapsed into silence once more until Kevin spoke again. "Well, Sara caught you by surprise, Don. So we can guess that she," he gestured to Lynn George's photo on the board, "scratched her attacker's face at least once. Who's to say she didn't scratch it even more? Make a real mess of it? And don't forget you were throwing yourself about a bit there, during the struggle, Don." 

"So it was force and gravity that caused the blood to drop onto her face," Sara offered.

Tony nodded as he picked up their line of thinking. "He cleans her up before returning her, so the blood in her nose seems out of context to us. But for all we know, he could have bled quite profusely. We're only getting the bit he didn't get around to cleaning up." 

"Did you come up with anything on the car, Kevin?" Carol asked the younger man.

He shook his head apologetically. "Too hard to tell on the tapes I got. Lynn George was abducted at night; hard to differentiate between black and dark blue cars. And there's no intersection near enough to her house to cross-reference anything on the tapes with the blue car seen in the area of the other crimes.

"So now what?" Sara asked no one in particular.

Don took this as his cue to speak. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use a pint."

*

The pub was only just beginning to fill with the lunch hour crowd, so they were able to find a table easily. The five had just sat down when a boy of no more than thirteen appeared and wiped the surface.

" 'Allo. Haven't seen you lot round here for a while." He turned to Carol and gave a sly wink. "You're looking lovely today, Inspector Jordan. Though when aren't you, eh?"

"Thank you, Kieran," Carol answered with a smile.

"Aren't you supposed to be in school?" Tony muttered.

"Ah, I come in for lunch to help me dad." Sara, who was still laughing at Tony's reaction, caught the boy's attention. He gave her the same appreciative eye. "I got to become a copper when I get older. You boys pull the prettiest girls."

Don rolled his eyes. "Are you here to take our order or to line up a chaperone for the next school dance?"

"All right, all right. Bloody hell." He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pad of paper. Removing the pencil from its home behind his ear, he looked around the table. "Go on, then."

It was apparent that they all had been here a number of times, a fact made obvious by the ease with which they ordered their food. Kieran scribbled furiously until he got to Sara.

"So what will it be for you then, my brunette angel?"

"Good lord," Tony groaned.

She nudged Tony good-naturedly before answering the young man. "I'll tell you what- I'll have whatever you choose. And a beer."

Kieran's eyes widened when he heard her speak. "Are you American?"

"Gee, you'll make a great cop," Kevin wryly noted.

"I am," Sara answered the boy.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in Bradfield, then?"

The table laughed at his honesty. "Well," Sara said, "I'm on holidays. I thought I'd visit my friend here." She put her arm around Tony.

"A friend of Dr. Hill's?" Kieran marveled. He turned to the psychologist. "Maybe I chose the wrong profession. Inspector Jordan and this American goddess? Good on you, mate!"

Tony sighed. "The order, Kieran?"

"Hmmm? Oh, right." Recalling Sara's instruction, he said, "You'll let me choose?"

"Sure," she nodded. "But I'm a vegetarian."

"Is that for vegetables or against them?"

The group laughed again.

"I'm pro-vegetables. Against meat."

"Is fish meat?"

"I can eat fish," she answered.

"Perfect." He scribbled down his idea. "Drinks are on the way."

*

Drinks arrived as promised (a "Nookie Broon" for Sara, as Kieran cheerfully announced; a Newcastle Brown Ale, as Tony translated) and they all sat back in well worn chairs to nurse their drinks and take in their surroundings.

"Off-side, off-side!" Don bellowed at the nearby television. The three men at the table groaned as the ball went past the keeper. 

Carol leaned across Tony and asked Sara, "Do you have this in the States?"

"You mean soccer?"

Without breaking attention from the game, Tony corrected, "Football."

Carol rolled her eyes and spoke to Sara again. "No, I mean this level of fanaticism. The idea that a simple game can turn grown men into six-year old boys."

"I am the last person to ask about sports," Sara laughed. "We had one case where the victim had traces of body paint on the inside of his T-shirt. I had to have the concept of grown men painting numbers and letters on their chests to show support for their team explained to me."

Tony turned his head, curiosity piqued. "So how did he die?"

"Well, it was a tough one. We found him in his bathtub and first thought he had slipped while running a bath and hit his head. Once we scooped him out, we found a mark on the back of his head. Cut to the chase, we tracked it all back to a fight in a sports bar. The punch didn't kill him instantly, but set a chain of events in motion that caused him to collapse in the tub and die."

As Sara spoke, it caught the attention of the other two men. Kevin frowned as he played back what she had just told them.

"What do you mean by 'scooped him out'?" he asked.

"Ah, how do I put this delicately?" She pressed her lips together to hide a smile. "Let's just say the affects of hot water on a human body not found for days isn't pretty."

Kevin frowned again until it came to him. "You mean like man soup?"

Sara nodded. "Like man soup."

A collective groan went around the table.

"Are all your cases like that?" Don asked.

"I wouldn't say all of them, no. But there have been some weird ones."

"As someone who works in the most minute of evidence, what would you say has been the most unusual key piece of evidence?" Tony queried.

"You mean like what was the least expected thing that broke the case?"

"Yeah."

"We tracked down a suspect through flour."

Carol smiled in amazement. "You mean the stuff you bake with?"

"Yep. But better than that; we narrowed it down to a very specific kind of flour, used only in pizzerias."

"So you caught the bastard," Don surmised.

She shook her head. "Unfortunately, as things played out, we knew he did it, but other things came into play and the cops had to let him go."

Tony nodded ruefully. "It's not always a happy ending, I'm afraid."

"No, it's not," she agreed. In an attempt to lighten the mood, she looked at the group and asked, "So how about you guys? What's the weirdest, most unusual thing that's happened to you?"

Carol and Kevin both looked at Don and simultaneously burst into laughter.

"The pigeon story, hands down," Carol chuckled.

"No, not the pigeon story," Don glared. "I mean it."

Tony looked at a curious Sara and said, "I have no idea what this is about."

"This was before you came along, Tony," Carol explained.

"So anyway," Kevin began, "me and Don get a call about a Peeping Tom."

"I'm off to the loo," Don grumbled. He made a motion to stand up, but Sara gently held his arm. "Fine. Carry on."

Kevin smirked. "Right. So we arrive at the scene. Talk to the woman who called it in, ask the neighbours, all that bit. We were really frustrated up to that point, because it had been the seventh such incident in the area and we hadn't yet caught him. Eyewitness accounts didn't quite match up, so it seemed as if we were at a real loss." He took a gulp of his beer before continuing. "So me and Don are really canvassing the surrounding area where this guy might have staked a claim to watch this girl. Bushes, adjacent buildings, that sort of thing. Then," Kevin started laughing, "Don breaks the case wide open. He's standing at the base of a nearby tree and looks up. The first branch is a perfect seat to look across into the victim's bedroom. Then Don looks down and sees, what we find out later to be, shells of sunflower seeds. And two pigeons going about eating them."

"Eating the evidence," Don emphasized.

"But you didn't know that at the time, did you?" Kevin ribbed.

"It didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together," the older man declared defensively. "Guy perched in the tree, shells on the ground. He was obviously eating the seeds and tossing the shells on the ground. Leaving traces of DNA, I might add."

"Good thinking, Don," Tony said.

Don nodded his thanks. "There, you hear that? Good thinking."

"So I hear this loud yelling and cursing," Kevin carried on. "Sounds like Don, so I rush out of the building across the street to see what's going on."

"And I chose that moment to arrive on the scene," Carol joined in. "Only to find Don holding some kind of bird in one hand…"

"…and the other in the bird's mouth," Kevin concluded with a grin.

"The damn bird just would not give it up," Don replied meekly.

Sara narrowed her eyes in playful confusion. "So let me get this straight. The birds were eating what you perceived to be evidence, so you took matters into your own hands…"

"…literally," Kevin added.

"And pried the evidence out of the mouth of the bird," she finished.

"Throw in four stitches on my index finger, and that's about how it happened, yeah."

"But," Carol admitted, coming to his defense, "they were able to get enough DNA off the shells to identify a guy we already had on file and the case was solved."

"I defy anyone to accuse me of not giving 110 percent," Don challenged.

Not for the first time that day, everyone laughed.

*


	5. Chapter 5

*

"Ah," Don proclaimed happily, as the group left the pub. He rubbed his stomach. "That was lovely." He looked at the group. "What's next?"

"I could go for a nap," Sara said.

"Weaned on the teat of watered down American beer, are you?" Kevin ribbed.

She made a motion to stick out her tongue, but ended up covering a yawn instead.

"Well, I have patients to see today. I do have another job," Tony commented.

"We've got to wait on those blood results to come back," Carol said. "How are you getting around today?" she asked Tony. "Did you top up the oil in your car like I told you?"

Sara looked over to him. "So you weren't kidding about your car making a grinding noise."

Carol rolled her eyes at him. "Fine. I'll give you a ride back, but if you don't have that fixed by the end of the day, don't come crying to me."

"I'll make sure it gets done," Sara told her.

"It takes forever for my engine to turn over in the morning. Can you come have a look?" Kevin asked with a grin.

"Get new spark plugs," Sara offered, and this time, did stick out her tongue.

"You'll come by the station later?" Don asked her.

"Not to look at Kevin's car, no," she replied with mock offense. "But when you get the results back on the blood, I'd like to pick up where we left off, yeah."

"Great," he smiled, "look forward to it." He turned to Kevin. "Come on, you drove me down here."

As the two men left, Carol turned to Sara. "You've got a new friend there."

"Fix Kevin's transmission, and you'll have two," Tony replied.

"Put oil in your car and I'll have three?"

He shook his head. "No. You picked up all my books. You're already my friend."

"She was the one who picked up your books?" Carol exclaimed.

"I didn't make her," Tony defended.

Carol just shook her head. "Sad, sad, sad."

*

A spicy aroma penetrated her sleepy senses and she slowly rolled over, taking a moment to clear her head. Yawning, she sat up and swung her feet to the floor. After a quick running of fingers through her hair, she opened the door to her bedroom and softly padded to the kitchen.

"I wish I had a camera," she announced.

The spoon in his hand clattered to the floor. "Jesus!" he exclaimed.

"Sorry," she apologized. "But believe me, I'm just as surprised to see a man at the stove cooking as you were when I snuck up on you."

He tossed the spoon into the sink and grabbed another one from the drawer. Although he knew the answer, he raised a teasing eyebrow and asked, "You don't have a man cooking for you?"

"I don't have a man doing anything for me." She peeked over his shoulder at the contents of the pan. "Cheater. That's not cooking. That's last night's food."

The corner of Tony's mouth drew down into a sad frown. "It's the thought that counts. Besides, beggars can't be choosers, Miss No-Man-Cooks-For-Me."

She squeezed his shoulders and gave him a peck on the cheek, much to his amazement. 

"You're right," she admitted, "I shouldn't be choosy. Thank you."

"I brought the paper in. Why don't you sit down and read it. Kettle's still hot; I'll make you a cup."

"You're going to make Carol very happy one day," she teased.

"I'll have you know I make Carol very happy already," he declared in mock indignation.

"I bet you do," she said in all seriousness, and smiled when he turned away, flustered by her honesty.

The door bell rang and Sara glanced from her paper over to Tony.

"You should give her a key," she suggested with a grin and saw his look. "What? I'm just trying to be helpful."

He wasn't falling for her feigned hurt feelings for a second. Holding out the spoon, he said, "Here, continue stirring." Seeing her hesitation, he added, "It won't bite. Just stir."

Sighing dramatically, she stood up and took the spoon out of his hand. The bell went again, and as Sara's mouth opened to speak, Tony held up a finger. 

"Not a word."

"What?" she asked again.

His feet softly thudded down the stairs and he unlatched the locks. Stepping inside, Carol sniffed the air. "Mmmm, something smells good. Last night's curry?"

Tony nodded. "Would you like a key?"

Carol frowned her confusion. "Sorry?"

"Would you like a key? To my flat?"

"Oh." She paused, at loss for words to his sudden invitation and all its implications.

"Sorry," he apologized, misinterpreting her silence. 

"No. I mean, yes." Now it was his turn to frown his confusion. "I mean, no, don't apologize. Yes, I think I would like a key."

He raised his eyebrows in understanding. "Ah. Good," and he turned to go upstairs, leaving Carol to follow him in amazement.

*

"Are you making her cook, too?" Carol asked incredulously when she saw Sara at the stove.

"First of all," Tony began, "as Sara so graciously pointed out to me, that is not cooking. That is heating and serving last night's take-away. Second, I was in complete control of the cooking until the door bell rang."

Sara nodded. "I have to agree with him. You do not want me cooking, believe me."

Tony and Carol laughed at Sara's facial expression, which told them everything they needed to know about her prowess in the kitchen. At that moment, the phone rang. Back in control of the spoon, Tony turned to Carol. "Can you get that?"

"If I can find it," Carol muttered. Much to her amazement, it was sitting out in the open on his desk in the living room. "Wonders never cease," she marveled. "Hello?" she spoke into the receiver. "No, you don't have the wrong number; this is Tony Hill's residence." Pausing, she listened to the voice on the other end. "Oh, Sara. Yes, she's here. One moment please." She brought the portable phone into the kitchen and handed it to Sara. "For you."

"Me?"

"You're Sara Sidle, aren't you? Know anyone by the name of Gil Grissom?" Carol asked playfully.

Sara all but snatched the phone out of her hand, turning away as Carol winked in return.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sara. It's Grissom," he added needlessly.

"Hey. Yeah, Carol told me." She sat down at the kitchen table, oblivious to the curious stares of Tony and Carol who were paired up at the stove and watching intently. When Grissom didn't immediately respond, she asked, "What's up?"

"What? Oh, I, how's your trip been?"

"Good," she answered. "Great, actually. Really great."

"That's… great. So you made it to London okay."

"Ten days ago, yeah," she laughed. "I got into Bradfield yesterday."

"How's Dr. Hill?"

She glanced over to Tony and caught the two of them watching her. She put her hand up to her face to pretend she couldn't see them. "Tony's great. Can't cook to save his life, but other than that, we're getting along really well. I'm having a really good time."

"I'm glad, Sara," Grissom admitted.

There was another long pause between them.

"Was there something you needed, Grissom?" 

She heard him cough in surprise. "Uh, no. I… I just wanted to see how you were doing. It's been… quiet at the lab since you left."

She smiled. "Thanks."

He shrugged, even though she couldn't see it. "No need to thank me." He paused again before plowing ahead. "Is Nick picking you up in Los Angeles?"

"No, I was thinking of just renting and driving back." She narrowed her eyes. "How did you know Nick drove me to the airport?"

She swore she could almost hear the tapping of his pen. "I think it came up in conversation at some point," he feebly offered.

"Oh."

"Would you like me to come pick you up at the airport?"

"You mean in Los Angeles?"

His laugh was short but genuine. "Well, as much as I'd like to be able to come pick you up at Heathrow, I think it will have to be L.A."

Now it was her turn to laugh. "Right. Not thinking. Sorry." Then the wheels started turning. "But that's a four hour drive, Griss."

"It's okay. I could use some time away from Vegas anyway. It'll be a nice relaxing drive."

"It's also four hours on the way back," she reminded him, as wary thoughts of being trapped alone with him in a silent car crossed her mind.

"I know." He took a deep breath. "I also know that things have been… difficult lately. I think the drive will do us good." He felt rather than heard her hesitation. "We can talk."

"Talk?"

"Now I know how I sounded when I said the word 'vacation'," he quipped, and she couldn't help but join in his laughter. Encouraged by her reaction, he joked, "Think of it; we'll be in a car. I won't be able to escape."

"You're sounding claustrophobic already," she said.

"I'll work on it on the way there. I promise," all jesting now gone from his voice. He gave her a moment to dispute his pledge or argue against him. When nothing seemed to be forthcoming, he took it as a good sign to ask, "What's your flight number and when are you scheduled to land in L.A?"

She sighed, uncertain. Hazarding a glance over at Tony and Carol, she noted they were still watching her, curious. Both were leaning slightly forward, eyebrows raised as they tried to figure out Grissom's end of the conversation. Sara laughed again.

"Do I even want to know what's going on there?" Grissom asked.

"No," Sara answered, "but I'm sure in the four hour drive, the topic of Tony and Carol will come up." She gave the pair a victorious smirk. "Do you have a pen handy?"

"Yes."

"British Airways, Flight 268. I'm supposed to land in L.A just before midnight on Friday."

"Even better. We'll book a hotel and leave in the morning." He pinched the bridge of his nose at the way his words sounded. "I mean, separate rooms." 

"I knew what you meant," she smiled.

"So that's all okay with you?"

She nodded and answered, "Yeah. I think that's all okay with me."

"Good."

"Good." She paused. "I should let you get back to work."

"How did you know I was at work?"

"Because it's six here which only makes it ten in the morning there. You've still got an hour."

Now it was his turn to smile. "You can see how busy I am. I'm making an overseas call on company time."

"Don't let the boss find out," she joked.

"Well, when I explain the nature of the call, I'm sure he'll understand," he replied. The trail of the conversation was slowly drawing to a close, so he threw in one more comment. "Sara… I'm really looking forward to seeing you."

Whatever her face revealed, it was enough to get a wink and a thumbs-up from Carol. Sara made a show of turning her back. "I'm glad you called, Griss."

"So am I. I'll see you on Friday."

"Okay. Bye." And with that, she hung up the phone. Turning around to look at the inquisitive pair by the stove, Sara raised an eyebrow and smirked, "The curry's burning."

"Hmmm?" Tony asked. A horrid smell caught his attention and both his and Carol's eyes snapped to the pan.

"Shit," was all Carol could say.

*


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: As mentioned, Jo, the rugby comment is for you. My thanks to those who have continued reading. There's one more after this bit.

*

His arm stretched out from under the sheets and patted around momentarily until it hit the clock. It reappeared seconds later after realizing it wasn't the clock that was making the annoying sound.

"Mmmm. Tony Hill."

"What are you doing?" came the familiar voice of Carol.

"Depends," he mumbled thickly. "What kind of telephone call is this going to be?"

"What?" she asked in confusion, before realizing the innuendo in his comment. "Well, aren't you coy first thing in the morning? So noted. In the meantime," she went on, "The results came back on that blood sample in the victim's nose."

He sat upright, fully awake now. "And?"

Although he couldn't see it, she shook her head. "And nothing. B negative, definitely male. But not from anyone in the system."

"Damn."

"Don's ready to explode, I'm sure."

"Do you want me to come down?"

"Yeah, could you?" she asked. "I hate to put this on you, but I could really use having a calming presence for a bit. I'm pulling my hair out over this case." A thought came to her. "Is your car working?"

"It is. I put oil in it last night." 

Carol's tone was skeptical. "Did you?"

Hedging, he changed his answer slightly. "Sara directed me." He waited but she didn't respond. "All right, I watched as Sara did it for me." Carol couldn't help but laugh, and Tony decided it was one of the best things to hear first thing in the morning.

Tony smiled. "I'll bring Sara. Might cheer Don up as well."

"Good idea. I'll see you in a bit."

*

"We got nothing," were the first words out of Don's mouth as Tony and Sara entered the office. 

"Yeah, we heard," Sara said.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted, weeks worth of frustration finding its way out.

"Maybe we should double-check the backgrounds again," Kevin suggested.

"We've done that. I've lost count how many times we've done that," Don argued.

Carol sighed raggedly, but did her best to present a strong façade. "You're right, Don," she admitted. "So what do you suggest we do?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but he knew he had nothing to offer. "I… I don't know, guv." Turning to his partner, he said, "Sorry about that, Kev."

He brushed off the apology. "We're all on edge about this, Don. Nothing to apologize for."

Carol looked over to Tony for his input and discovered he was intently watching Sara. Sensing her look, Tony glanced over at Carol and put a finger to his lips. Don and Kevin saw the gesture and followed Tony's gaze to Sara. The CSI was sitting in a nearby chair, her foot propped up on a desk drawer she had pulled out, scribbling furiously onto a notepad resting on her knee. She frowned in concentration, every so often her lips moved wordlessly as if in silent debate with herself. When she finally spoke, they jumped.

"Numerology!" she said proudly, oblivious to the startled reaction of the room.

Carol was the first to find her voice. "Numerology? What do you mean?"

"You mean like psychics and horoscopes," Don all but scoffed.

Sara turned her notepad around so the others could see it. They leaned forward and struggled to decipher her scrawl. Looking down at the pad, she voiced what her illegible writing couldn't quite convey. "It's not uncommon for serial killers latch on to a particular pattern; they kill on the same day of the week, or the same date. They stab their victims the same amount of times or they choose victims based on letters in their name. It was the same thing with the case in Vegas." She looked over at Tony who nodded his agreement. "But in this case," she went on, "the numbers come from the letters of their name. The total of those letters leads to the same number. Assign a number to each letter of the alphabet. One for A, two for B, three for C and so on. The names of all these women add up to the same number- 122." She caught the look of confusion from Don and smiled. "Don Merrick. D-3, O-15, N-14, M-13, E-5, R-18, R-18, I-9, C-3, K-11. That's…" she paused and looked up at the ceiling momentarily. "Carry the one… 110."

"Maths know-it-all," Kevin ribbed.

She stood up and went to the whiteboard and wrote out a string of letters from A to Z and put their corresponding numbers beneath them. She then jotted down the names of the victims.

JANE MORRIS- 30+92=122

EMMA SMYTHE- 32+90=122

"Here's the trick," Sara noted as she spelled out the name of the third victim. "Not Sue, but Susan."

SUSAN GRAHAM- 74+48=122

LYNN GEORGE- 65+57=122

"Bloody hell," Don marveled. 

Her smile was short-lived, and she leaned back against the board, her arms crossed in front of her. "Well it doesn't really help you predict his next move though, does it? It's not like you can go through the phone book and apply my theory to all the names. And what does the number signify? What kind of meaning does it have? Figure out his reasoning and you figure him out." She gestured to the notepad on the desk. "Those numbers are logic, not reason. This is where I get confused, because in my job, logic identifies the "how" and that's how I solve the case. I don't deal in reasons; it's not my job to figure out the 'why'. But here, it's completely ass-backwards. It's the logic that helps you figure out the 'why'- he's got some weird obsession with numbers – but it doesn't help you with the 'how'. I'm completely lost." She ran her fingers through her hair in defeat. "And more importantly, it doesn't get us any closer to the next victim."

Tony stood up and started pacing. "Not necessarily, Sara, not necessarily." He tapped his temple as he tried to formulate his thoughts. "Think about it," he began, "think about how he was able to come up with those names; four names that all added up to the same number. You were right, Sara. If we can't just look through the phone book to apply that theory, he very well can't either, can he? So how did he get the names?"

Carol picked up his trail. "He'd have to be in a position to see these names together. A list of names to narrow down. What kind of job offers that opportunity?"

"It would have to be a service all four women used or signed up for," Kevin offered.

"We checked their backgrounds thoroughly," Don reminded them again. "Banking, electricity, television, schooling, hobbies. Nothing connected them."

"Telemarketing?" Sara asked.

Shaking her head, Carol replied, "Nothing the phone records came up with." Unaware, she tapped her lips with her fingers and began to mimic Tony's pacing. "Think. These women were taken out of their homes. No sign of forced entry, so they must have known or recognized the man. Or in the very least, felt safe enough to let open the door and let them in."

Kevin spoke again. "Delivery?"

Don shook his head. "We ruled that out too. We couldn't find any local shops who delivered to any of the women."

"Well, if he's a crim, which he is, maybe he simply posed as a delivery man," Kevin said.

"Good point, Kevin," Tony agreed, "but that still doesn't answer the question, how did he get their names? The delivery ruse only gets him in the house. It doesn't get him to the house." He stopped and put his hand out as if to steady himself. "To the house." The room waited expectantly for him to elaborate. He clenched his hand into a fist and smiled. "To the house. How did he get to the house?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued, "He drove. And so did all the women."

"DMV," Sara whispered, catching on to Tony's train of thought. Seeing the puzzled looks of the other three, she clarified, "Department of Motor Vehicles. It's where you go to get your licence renewed or get a licence plate. That sort of thing."

"DVLA," Carol said. "But you don't go there. It's not a service done face-to-face."

"But you do see someone face-to-face when you get your new tax disc," Kevin offered. Seeing the look of confusion on Sara's face, he explained, "It's a paper disc that you display in your windscreen. Can't drive your car legally without it. You get it at the Post Office."

"Windscreen. I believe you call it a 'windshield'," Tony said helpfully, with just the smallest trace of a smile.

She fought her own smirk. "So it'd be possible to trace these four women to a local post office?"

"Where else could you get a list of names as long as your arm, and the information with which to track them down?" Don marveled aloud.

"Wait," Tony said and the entire room stopped. "We're making this too difficult. Why not start with the DVLA directly? We shouldn't dismiss the post office outright, but think about it. If you work in the post office, you have to wait for the women to come to you. In an organization like the DVLA, like you said Don, one would have the information to track you down. Give some trumped up excuse about how there was a problem with their form or whatever, you show a new form, get inside, and it all picks up speed for the killer from there."

"Only one problem," Kevin spoke up. All eyes turned to him. "There's only one DVLA and that's in Wales. What the hell's he doing in this neck of the woods?"

Carol pondered this for a minute, then replied, "Let's see if it pieces together after we've got more information. This is a good lead right now; we'll run with what we've got." 

Don pointed at Sara. "You. I'm warning you right now, if this turns out to be right, you're never leaving." 

Laughter came easily and was a welcome relief.

"Right," Carol said, "Don, check the vehicle registration of all four women. See if there's a connection there in terms of expiration dates and the like. Then get us our own list. I want to know the names of all the women who have received renewal notifications in the mail within the three months, and who is up for one in a month's time. Kevin, I want the names of everyone who works for the DVLA. Then cross-reference that list with anyone Don finds in his investigative jaunts. Perhaps one or two people were given that specific job of handling the renewals. That would make our job a hell of a lot easier." 

"What'll you be doing, guv?" Kevin asked.

"Oh, I'll be sitting on my arse trying to figure out a way to get Don's new friend to stay." She glanced over at Sara and smiled. Throwing Kevin a sardonic look, she added, "That is, until you bring me that list, Kevin. Then I can cross-check any potential suspects with the ownership of a dark blue sports car seen in the vicinity of the crimes."

"Right you are, boss," Don said. Jerking his head towards the door, he motioned to his partner, "Well, come on then. We've got a murderer to catch."

As the two men left the office, Tony dropped himself into a nearby chair. "Well, that was easy," he smiled.

Carol leaned against the window frame. "That numerology bit. That was bloody brilliant. Weird, but brilliant. Might not identify him directly, but it could go a long way to tracking him down." 

"You know, I'll feel bad if this doesn't turn out," Sara admitted.

Waving her hand, Carol dismissed the idea. "Don't worry about it. We follow every lead and if they don't pan out, we just move on to the next theory and try harder. And as of right now, yours is the best lead we've come up with in days. Don't worry," she repeated. "The only one who will be disappointed will be your friend, Don. He was serious, you know. We'll have to sneak you out of Bradfield in the dead of night."

*

"It's the waiting I hate," Carol admitted as she sat back in her chair and looked out her office window. Forty-five minutes had passed since Don and Kevin had left.

"So you find the catch more interesting than the chase?" Tony asked.

"You're not analyzing me, are you?"

He shook his head vehemently. "No. Definitely no. Not."

Sara's laugh was interrupted by the appearance of Don's large frame in the doorway. He held up a file.

"Got that list you wanted, guv. Every notification in the last three months, and the ones up in a month's time, narrowed down to the women, just like you asked." 

He handed it to Carol who opened the manila folder. "Good work, Don. Right. Kevin hasn't come back with the DVLA employee list, so in the meantime, we each get a page of these names and start using Sara's formula on each and every one. If we're lucky, this is going to narrow things down to a handful of names. If we're lucky." She started handing out the small stack of paper around to the group, herself included. 

Don looked down at his two pages, up to the board bearing Sara's numerical theory, then back down to his pages. "Anyone got a bloody calculator?"

*

"What's fifty three plus eighty six?" Tony asked out loud.

"More than one hundred and twenty two," Carol answered.

The office had been silent except for the scattered, barely perceptible mutterings of "…carry the two…" and "… equals ninety five…" as names transferred over to numbers. At last, Sara stood up and walked over to the board. In block printing, she wrote down, "SIAN PEMBRY- 43+79=122"

Thirty minutes later, and it remained the only name on the board. As per his impeccable timing, Kevin arrived, his own file in hand.

"Tell me something wonderful, Kevin," Carol said.

"I predict England will win the Rugby World Championship this year," he offered.

Tony perked up. "Do you really?"

Sighing, Carol said, "Hello? Tell me something I want to hear, Kevin."

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." He held up the file. "Got that employee list from DVLA."

"How many names?" Don wearily asked.

Kevin smiled. "Oh, you're going to love this… one."

"One?"

"One man was given the task of issuing tax disc notifications for the Bradfield area within the last six months. DVLA gave me a photo. Alan McGregor. And, seeing as I knew how busy you were," he ignored Carol's glare, "I checked out his vehicle registration. You'll never guess what he drives."

Sara leaned back and raised her arms victoriously.

"Wait, there's more," Kevin smiled. "Previous address? 82 Pembrook Lane."

"Here?" Carol asked. "In Bradfield?"

"One and the same, guv."

"Well, that's it, then," Don said. "We've got him."

Carol held up a finger. "Not just yet. We've got to be careful here." She looked around the room. "What do we have? We've got DNA that leads to no one at this point. We've got a generic blue car that could belong to anyone. And although we've singled him out as the notification issuer, no one saw him at any of the victim's houses."

"It's all circumstantial," Sara noted.

"Exactly."

"So what do we do now?" Don asked impatiently.

Carol turned to Tony. "Any indication as to when he might strike again?"

He shook his head. "Too hard to determine with any certainty."

"Take an educated guess."

"Well," he looked at the board. "There were five weeks between Jane Morris and Emma Smythe. Then only twenty four days between Emma Smythe and Sue Graham. Between Sue Graham and Lynn George, two weeks. While there's no evident pattern, it's certainly escalating at an alarming rate. Following his curve, it's safe to assume he'll attack in under a two week period. It's been five days since the death of Lynn George."

"So that's anytime between now and eight days time," Sara calculated.

Tony nodded.

"Right," Carol said. "We put twenty-four hour surveillance on Sian Pembry's house, have someone inside, particularly at night. And we wait it out. Good work, everyone."

*


	7. Chapter7

A/N: This is it. Don't blink or you'll miss it; the case wraps up quickly, I'll admit. In my defense, I will say that the story was never meant to be a case file. My main interest was always the characters and not the case; I wanted to put three of my favourite characters together and that's exactly what I did. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for reading.

*

"What are you smiling about?" Tony asked Sara, as they sat in the dark car.

"Well, two things," she admitted, as she poured some coffee from a thermos. "First, this is my second night on a stake-out. I'd never been on a stake-out before."

"I feel a bit guilty," he admitted, and seeing her look, continued. "This is your last night in Bradfield. I'm sure it's not quite the way you envisioned things when you first arrived."

She smiled broadly and shook her head. "It's okay. This is kinda cool."

"Kinda cool," Tony repeated, rolling the words around in his mouth. "Hmmm. And what was the second thing you were thinking?"

"I keep trying to imagine Don in that little… flat."

He took the coffee Sara offered and conceded a smile. "Technically, that is a duplex, since it has an upstairs. But I see your point; the proverbial bull in a china shop."

They looked up the street, a small block of brick boxes in a quiet suburb where Sian Pembry lived. Earlier that day Carol and Don had visited her and attempted to explain the situation in the least alarming way possible. After several exclamations of shocked disbelief, accompanied by repeated affirmations that they were indeed serious, she was mollified by Carol's assurances that she wouldn't be left alone for a moment, until the attacker was caught. Two plain-clothes officers kept watch from the street for the entire afternoon, and a female officer was posted inside the miniscule dwelling.

The night shift was an almost carbon copy of that set-up, with Kevin in his own car at the far end of the street and Don accompanying Carol inside. Tony and Sara kept unofficial watch from his car, a little way down the road

"Can I get you any more tea?" Sian nervously asked Don.

"Ah, no thank you, miss, I'm fine." He fidgeted as he sat in the tiny chair. Under other circumstances, Carol might have laughed out loud at his discomfiture.

The endless supply of tea was beginning to take its toll. As much as he didn't want to leave his watch for a second, he could hold it no longer.

"Can you tell me where the loo is?"

"What?" she asked. "Oh. The loo. Here, let me show you." 

As she started up the stairs, Don turned to Carol and whispered, "It's not like you'd need a bloody map in this mouse house."

Carol pressed down her smile and jerked her head towards the stairs. "Go on."

Just as Don slipped out of sight, Carol's radio crackled to life. "D.I. Jordan, he's coming up the steps now. I repeat, he's coming up the steps!" Kevin relayed urgently.

The doorbell rang and though she stood up, Carol made no move to answer it. Glancing up the stairs, she muttered, "What the bloody hell is Don doing up there?"

The bell rang again.

She hesitated. Answer the door by herself or wait for Don to come back down? 

The bell rang again, forcing her decision. She crossed quickly to the door; unlatching the lock she swung the door open.

A stocky man, matching the photo of Alan McGregor from his DVLA file, stood on the step. Cold brown eyes looked down at her from under a thatch of sandy blonde hair but he greeted her with a smile. "Sian Pembry?"

At that moment, his intended target chose to come down the stairs. McGregor's eyes narrowed for a moment, shifting from Carol, to Sian, then back again. In that split second, Carol knew it was over. 

Later, everyone would tell how it all seemed to unfold in slow motion.

In the blink of an eye, McGregor pushed Carol back into the narrow entranceway and took off like a shot. Glancing up the street to where he had parked his car, he saw Kevin barreling down the sidewalk on foot. Turning on a dime, he fled in the opposite direction. Kevin quickly weighed his options and ran back towards his own vehicle.

"He's coming your way, Dr. Hill," Kevin barked into his hand-held.

"Oh, Christ," Tony groaned, seeing events unfold before Sara even opened the car door. And yet he was still a step behind her as they gave chase down the lonely street, her long legs eating up the distance.

"Stop running!" Sara yelled, but McGregor's only indication of acknowledging her command was a nervous glance over his shoulder.

"Yes, please stop running," Tony gasped as he struggled to keep up.

In the house, Carol scrambled to her feet, yelled for Don and gave chase.

Thudding down the stairs, Don ordered Sian to lock the door behind him, and the big man surprised himself with a burst of speed down the street.

The disjointed thunder of feet echoed out over the otherwise silent street as they hurtled after McGregor. At last, a long slender arm reached out, stretching just far enough to clutch a handful of his coat as it blew out behind him. Letting the laws of physics take their inevitable course, Sara stopped running and twisted as she dropped to the ground, yanking McGregor around with her. Literally throwing him against the curb, he landed with a sickening thud where he lay motionless. Winded by the fall, she was just picking herself up as Tony breathlessly caught up.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his arm around her as she bent over at the waist, nursing her shoulder.

Two deep gulps of air and she responded. "Yeah. Yeah. But ask me again in the morning." Looking down at the now groaning body on the ground, she added, "I told him to stop running."

Tony mirrored her bent position and took a few deep breaths of his own before answering, "That you did."

Her feet nearly screeching to a halt, Carol took in the scene. "Right," was all she could manage and she placed her hands on her knees.

Don was five steps behind her and promptly sat down on the curb. "I hope to bloody hell he's not going anywhere."

"We should probably check his head for injuries," Sara suggested, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

"Yeah, sure," Don panted, but made no effort to move.

The slam of a car door caught everyone's attention, and Kevin ambled onto the scene. "Aren't you all a sad looking lot?" he said with a grin.

"Piss off," Don moaned.

"So what do we have here, then?" Kevin asked.

"Trouble," Sara answered. "Big trouble. I've just caused six months worth of red tape for all of us. American criminalist involved in British arrest."

Kevin scratched his temple and smiled. "I don't know what you're talking about, miss. That's not the way I saw it." Four heads turned to look at him. "As an officer of the law, I saw a Good Samaritan risk her life to aid in the capture of a highly dangerous and fleeing criminal."

Carol tilted her head, seeing the younger man in a new light. "My, my, Kev. I didn't realize you were so adept at avoiding the shit hitting the fan."

"How do you think I've kept my job as long as I have, guv?" he grinned. "Christ, the way I see it, they'll give her a medal."

"I'm ready to give her one myself," Don said as he finally found the energy to walk over to injured criminal and click the handcuffs on him.

"I'd be happy with another vacation," Sara joked, the adrenaline of the last ten minutes finally ebbing away.

"Anywhere but Bradfield, eh?" Carol joined in.

Looking at Tony, she nudged him good-naturedly with her shoulder. "Nah. Bradfield's pretty okay."

Tony smiled at her, returning her warmth. Then making a pained face, he said, "I don't suppose you could carry me back to the car?"

*

"That was quick," Tony remarked, as Sara emerged from the spare room, bag in hand.

"The advantage of travelling light," she quipped. "Only takes a second to pack."

"In that much of a hurry to get out of Bradfield, are you?" His smile softened his mock accusation.

Although his comment didn't require a reply she shook her head and looked around. "No." She said sadly, "I'm really gong to miss this place."

"You're always welcome."

"Thank you." She paused then smirked, "But I think it might take me a while to recover from Don's long goodbye."

Tony shook his head. "Poor Don. He's going to be inconsolable for days."

They both laughed at the memory of her farewells at the station. Don had greeted her at the office door, brimming with excitement.

"Well, if it isn't our Hero of the Day!" he smiled.

"Heroine," Carol corrected. "Hello, Sara. How are you?"

"Good. Great. How are you?"

"Fantastic now that word's come down on our Mr. McGregor. The Magistrate informed us this morning that he would be remanded without bail and it looks like the CPS will be going for the maximum sentence at trial. He figures the DNA results along with the amount of circumstantial evidence we already had should be enough to ensure a conviction."

"Not to mention the chloroform we found in his jacket," Kevin added.

"That's great," Sara beamed.

"I put your name in for a special recognition award," Don said.

"What?"

Carol nodded. "Yeah, we all submitted your name for a local Samaritan award. It was Don's idea."

Sara felt her eyes fill. Standing on tip-toes, she reached up and gave the big man a heartfelt hug. "Aw, thank you."

He pulled back and gave a shy grin. "Ah, it was nothing. You deserve it."

"Too bad I won't be here to accept it," she lamented.

Don frowned. "What do you mean?"

"My flight leaves tonight. I'm leaving for London later this afternoon. I just came to say goodbye."

"Ah, hell," Kevin groaned. "You didn't even get a chance to look at my car."

She slapped the young man on the shoulder. "I'd say I'll check it next time, but I'm not sure when I'll be back."

"You're always welcome," Carol said. "I wish I could drive back to London with you," she smiled. "It's not right to send you off without an appropriate fanfare at the departure gate."

"Well, think of it this way, by not driving back with me, you'll avoid the near-death experience of me trying to remember which side of the road I'm supposed to be on."

Carol laughed. "Ah, you'll be missed, Sara." She stepped forward and gave her a warm embrace. "Remember what I said about that stick," she whispered into her ear.

Sara grinned and whispered back, "I will. It was so good to meet you."

Kevin butted in. "Well, if we're handing out free feels…"

"Hands above the waist, Kev," Tony warned.

"Killjoy," he accused the psychologist. But he did as he was told and offered a platonic hug.

"Well, Don," Sara invited and was alarmed by the intensity of his embrace. She gave a huge laugh.

"Injuries, Don, injuries," Tony called out.

"Oh, right, sorry," he apologized and brushed the sleeves of her jacket down.

"I'm leaving you in charge of my award," she told him. "You better make sure it gets to me."

"It'll get to you if I have to hand-deliver it myself," he promised.

"Could you picture Don in Las Vegas?" Carol wondered, and they all laughed.

"I thought Don was going to cry right there on the spot," Tony said, remembering the farewell.

"Me, too," Sara admitted with a smile. "Poor guy."

"Don't be surprised if he does hand-deliver that award."

"Well, if he doesn't, maybe you could."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Now, what would Dr. Grissom say if I showed up on the doorstep of your lab?"

Sara's mouth twitched. "He'd wonder who died this time."

"What odd lives we lead," he pondered with a tilt of his head. "Hmmm. Anyway," he said, returning his attention to Sara, "you ready to go?"

She patted her jacket. "Passport, ticket, keys." She patted her pockets again. "Keys. Have you seen my keys?"

He held them up. "I've got them." When she reached out for them, he shook his head. "Come on," he said and gestured towards the door. He grabbed his jacket and followed her down the stairs.

Once outside, he unlocked her trunk and placed her bag inside. Sara looked down at her shoes.

"I hate good-byes," she said.

"Well, then wait until we get to the airport before you say it," he suggested in return.

Glancing up in surprise, she could only manage to say, "What?"

"I'm not one to test Fate more than I have to, Sara," he explained, dead-panned. "You driving from London to Bradfield without incurring any damage was enough."

"You're driving me to the airport?" 

"Why not? It's a nice drive."

"It's three hours. And how will you get back?"

"I'll take the train. I've always wanted to take in the countryside."

"At ten o'clock at night?" she asked.

"Are you always this difficult?" When he got no response, he wryly added, "Besides, three hours in a car with me should prepare you for your ride back to Las Vegas."

She gave him a look that would burn through steel. "Get in the car."

*

They stood at the departure gate, neither one wanting to speak first. It was the announcement of her flight that prodded both of them.

"That's…" she said.

"Well…" he said, at the same time.

They both laughed and before their laughter died, Tony stepped forward and embraced her warmly. "The key's under the second potted plant on the left," he whispered. "Just in case I leave you on the steps again."

She smiled against his ear. "I'll just ask Carol for hers." They pulled back and Sara wiped her eyes. "Damn, I didn't think I'd cry." She looked up into his blue gaze. "I'm going to miss you."

"You're just saying that because I've loaded you up to your gills in alcohol."

She gave a lazy grin. "I can't believe you kept ordering all those drinks for me," she accused.

"I can't believe you kept drinking them," he remarked. "Carol will be proud you got that send-off she spoke of." He looked around the airport. "Did you play that game when you were a child? I believe it was called, 'Tag'."

Nodding, she answered, "Yeah. You touch someone, and they're 'It', then it's their turn to make someone else 'It'."

"Right," he said.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just feel like we're playing that game. Twice we've gone our separate ways, and twice it's been at an airport. It's like we're handing off the next game to the other person."

She smiled again, but quickly got serious. "I am going to miss you, Tony." She stepped forward and hugged him again.

"I know it's an odd thing to say considering the distance, but don't be a stranger, Sara." He leaned back and put his hands on her shoulders. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

She cupped his face with her hands and softly kissed him on the lips. It didn't speak of passion or amorous intent; it was merely one of heartfelt affection. She then bent down and hefted her bag over her shoulder. She laughed when she noticed his eyes were still closed in silent repose.

"I'm leaving now," she announced.

"Hmmm? Oh, right," he said. "Good-bye, Sara."

"Good-bye, Tony." And as much as she didn't want to do it, she began walking away.

"Call me when you get in!" he called after her.

She gave a thumbs-up, then a thought occurred to her and she ran towards him. Startled by her actions, he didn't move. She got within arms reach and slapped him on the shoulder. Giving him one final grin, she said, "You're 'It'," before jogging towards the gate.

*

Despite the crowd of people waiting in the arrivals area, the only person she really saw was Grissom. A huge smile spread across her face and she all but ran to meet him. Slowing down a few feet in front of him, she attempted to reign in her joy as much as possible, but nothing would remove the smile.

"Hey," she greeted.

"Hey yourself," he returned. Seeing her in such a mood was a surprise to him. "Sleep deprivation?" he ventured.

"What? Oh," she realized what he was implying. "No, I actually slept most of the way."

"You? Slept? For almost ten hours?"

"Yeah! Can you believe it? The fact that Tony plied me with liquor at the Heathrow bar as a big send-off might have had something to do with it," she admitted with a grin.

"You're drunk!" 

"No, not now. Not really. No." She paused. "Maybe a little. High altitude."

He shook his head and picked up her bag. "Come on. We'll go get some coffee. You can tell me all about your trip."

"It was great," she said. "I had a great time."

"You look like you did. And I don't just mean the booze."

She lightly punched his arm. "You should try it sometime."

"What? Booze or a vacation?" he asked playfully.

"Well, I wouldn't discount the first one, but I think you'd enjoy a vacation more."

Grissom looked like he was giving it some serious thought. "Maybe I'll go with you next time." He took great pleasure in the look of surprise on her face. He started walking away and turned around to find her still rooted on the spot in surprise. He couldn't help but laugh. "Come on. You're going to tell me all about this trip." When she joined him at his side, he said, "So, what did you do?"

They began walking down the hall, shoulders bumping. "Well," she began, "I went on a double-decker bus." He nodded. "Went to the Science Museum."

"Oh, how was that?" he asked, curious.

"It was really cool!" she exclaimed. "Though I got a few looks when I tried to refute one of their experiments."

He laughed. "That's my girl." She bumped into his shoulder again. "What else did you do?"

"Hmmmm… what else?" She thought pensively. "Oh, right. I helped solve a murder investigation."

He stopped in his tracks and Sara turned with an amused grin. "You did what?"

She started walking backwards, encouraging him to continue forward. "I helped Tony and Carol solve a murder investigation." She saw the look of amazement in his eyes. "I did! I have bruises to prove it! They're sending me an award and everything."

"You're drunk," Grissom sighed.

"I'm a heroine!" she corrected with a laugh. "Want to hear about it?" she teased.

Realizing she was serious, he narrowed his eyes in a mock scowl. "You know I do."

She affected a passable English accent and hooked her arm in his. "Well, come on then."

*

end.


	8. Chapter8

A/N: I had most of this on my hard drive for a loooooong time, and I decided to finally dust this little bit of fluff off and finish it. (Just when you thought after my last two angsty-type fics I didn't have it in me!) I've left it open-ended. Might get back to it one day.

---

Jennifer walked into the breakroom, smiling as she caught sight of Sara Sidle's unmistakable lanky frame lounging on the couch. "Sara. Someone at the front desk to see you."

Sara sat up. "For me?"

"Yeah," the receptionist answered. She held out her hand just slightly above her head. "About yay tall, dark hair, blue eyes to die for, and an accent that will knock you on your ass."

"A guy?"

A look of amusement passed between Catherine, Nick and Warrick.

Jennifer nodded.

"For Sara?" Nick piped up with a grin. He had the good sense to try and stifle the expression once he got a steely Sidle glare in return.

"Very funny," she retorted. Looking back to Jennifer, she stood up and said, "Thanks, Jen." She wiped her palms on her jeans and frowned.

"You know," Catherine finally said, "if you go see who it is, you'd get rid of that puzzled frown a hell of a lot quicker."

Startled out of her reverie, Sara blinked. "What? Oh. You guys are a bunch of comedians tonight."

"Hey, don't lump me in that group," Warrick objected.

Sara smiled. "Sorry. I'll leave it up to you then to tell Grissom where I am if I'm not here when he shows up with the assignments."

Warrick looked to his other two teammates. "You guys can have my possessions if Griss decides to shoot the messenger."

"You've just been lumped back in that group," Sara informed with a stern look, one that was betrayed by the ghost of a grin.

---

'Dark hair, blue eyes to die for, and an accent that will knock you on your ass,' Sara played back in her mind as she walked down the hall towards the front desk. 'Who the hell could that be?' She didn't bother turning around when she spoke aloud, "I can hear you guys shuffling and giggling behind me." Her gaze caught the reflected images of Nick, Catherine and Warrick in one of the many windows of the hallway. The trio froze, then giggled louder.

"Sorry, Sara," Nick apologized between the laughter, "but it's not every day we get to be a witness to history."

Sara's response was a flick of her middle finger as she kept walking.

"Dark hair, blue eyes to die for..." her recollection stopped in mid-sentence when she turned the corner. A huge smile spreading from ear to ear. "Tony!" The name was barely out of her mouth when her arms were around him in a warm embrace.

"Oh!" he said in surprise before gently putting his arms around her. "Sara."

She pulled back and placed her hands on either side of his face. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, we were just in the neighbourhood and...," he shrugged nonchalantly.

She laughed then hugged him again. "Oh, it's so good to see you." She held him for a moment longer before stepping back. "We? Who's we?"

Before Tony could answer, Nick came out from his hiding post around the corner and said, "Hey! Dr. Hill!" The younger man shook Tony's hand. "Good to see you, man," he said warmly

Catherine and Warrick stepped forward too and joined the welcome.

"Another wrong turn at Albuquerque, Dr. Hill?" Catherine teased.

"You can't trust cab drivers these days," Tony deadpanned.

The group was laughing, when a familiar blonde approached.

"Carol!" Sara beamed and the two women hugged.

"Sorry I'm late to the party," Carol apologized, "but when I came out of the loo, I was lost. You need to have maps posted around here, honestly."

"I left bread crumbs the last time I was here," Tony recalled.

Sara laughed again, then caught the looks of her teammates. "Oh yeah, sorry. Guys, this is Carol Jordan. She was the cop on the murder case I helped with when I was in England in the spring. Carol, these are my co-workers, Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, and Nick Stokes."

Carol shook each hand and exchanged greetings in turn, ending with Nick.

He took her hand in his and drawled, "Ms. Jordan, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Carol narrowed her eyes appreciatively and replied, "I absolutely adore your accent, Mr. Stokes."

Sara leaned into Nick and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. "Are you blushing, Nick?"

Warrick hooted, then shook his head. "Damn man, you are so easy."

"Is he?" Carol asked, feigning innocence.

"I'll just be off to the side here, dying," Nick said. Once the laughter died down, he looked at Tony. "Hey. So you're the guy who was waiting for Sara?"

Tony frowned in confusion. "Sorry?"

"Jen came into the breakroom and told Sara a guy was waiting for her at the front desk." The look of confusion remained on Tony's face. "We thought it might have been a male admirer. It would have been a historic event."

The light went on. "Oh, I see," Tony replied. "That's why you three were skulking around the corner."

"Guilty as charged," Warrick admitted.

"Well, I am an admirer of Sara," he smiled at her. "However, I am not blessed with the fortitude to be a history maker." His smile turned to Carol.

Catherine caught the look and repeated Tony's earlier refrain. "Oh, I see."

"What?" Nick asked, which earned him a jab in the shoulder from Warrick. "Hey!"

"I'm trying to imagine Kevin and Don like this," Carol said.

"How is Don doing?" Sara asked.

"Good. He's well. A bit disappointed he couldn't be here, but good nonetheless."

"That's good. Tell him I miss him." She tilted her head, the question just occurring to her. "Not that I'm not really happy to see you two, but what ARE you doing here?"

Carol laughed. "Tony didn't tell you?"

"I never got the chance," he defended.

"There was some rather large psychologists to-do in Los Angeles over the weekend. And Tony has a fear of flying."

"Not a fear," Tony objected. "Just... a very healthy apprehension when it comes to being put into a steel can and launched into the air for extended periods of time."

"Right. As I was saying," Carol continued, "a fear of flying. So he asked me if I would like to come with him and I agreed."

"That sounds like a psychological trick to get a pretty woman to hold your hand to me," Nick opined.

"I would never, ever resort to such a tactic, Nick," Tony replied. "Ever."

Carol's eyes narrowed. "Hmmm, I think I'm going to have to carefully re-evaluate this situation before we get back on the plane."

"I let you drag me to a casino," Tony meekly defended. "And you know how much I hate them."

"Too much sensory stimulation?" Sara asked.

Tony nodded. "Sends me right round the bend, honestly."

"The more money you lose, the worse it gets," Warrick said.

"A vicious psychological cycle, yes," Tony agreed. "Which is probably why Carol hasn't noticed."

"You're winning?" Warrick asked. "Good for you."

"Winning?" Tony exclaimed. "I keep waiting for some mob character to tap her on the shoulder and drag us into the desert."

Warrick's eyes narrowed. "Just how much are you winning?"

Carol looked away with a guilty grin. "Oh, well, you know, in casino terms, not much. About, well, twenty-eight thousand dollars."

"In one sitting," Tony added.

Warrick's eyebrows lifted and he whistled. "Nearly thirty Gs? Blackjack?"

Carol nodded.

"Card counter?"

Carol feigned resentment. "I am an officer of the law, even if it's not here in the States. I would never stoop to cheating."

Catherine smirked. "It's only cheating if you get caught."

"So you're not card counting?" Nick asked.

"Well," Carol hesitated before hedging, "I've been tested for my vocal recall." When she saw the questioning looks of the four Americans, she explained, "I can recall entire conversations verbatim."

"You're kidding," Nick said.

"I absolutely adore your accent, Mr. Stokes," Carol repeated. "Are you blushing, Nick? Damn man, you are so easy. Is he? I'll just be off to the side here, dying."

"Holy shit," Nick marveled.

"That's gotta come in handy in court," Catherine remarked.

"It does."

Warrick nodded. "So this vocal recall also affects your visual recollection?"

Carol shook her head. "Not nearly as accurate, no."

"But it doesn't hurt," Warrick smiled. "And cards are easier to remember than details. The MIT Blackjack team won hundreds of thousands using a plus/minus system based on the cards face up on the table. It's pretty rote."

She smiled back. "Yeah."

"How many cards can you keep track of?" he asked, curious.

"I've never really tested myself." Seeing the waiting looks of those around her, she gave in. "I'd guess somewhere between sixty and seventy five."

Warrick whistled again. "Not bad. I once knew a guy who could track a hundred cards."

"Almost two full decks?" Sara asked. "Wow. I can't even remember what I watched on TV yesterday."

Carol laughed. "Well, like Mr. Brown said, cards are rather rote. Ten numbers and three pictures. Quite easy, really. And," she went on, "in my defense, I have to say card counting isn't going to win every time."

Warrick agreed. "She's right. They use anywhere up to four decks at the blackjack table at any given time, which skewers the odds for card counters considerably. And you can never account for pure luck." He gave Carol a respectful wink.

A familiar supervisor coming down the hall caught Nick's eye. He glanced at his watch. "Shit. Speaking of luck, we'll be lucky to have a job tomorrow."

All eyes turned to see what had caught Nick's attention.

"You guys save yourselves; I'll stay behind and distract him," Warrick offered in a tone of exaggerated bravado.

"I heard that," Grissom said as he approached the group.

"Busted," Nick moaned.

"You're all busted," he agreed, his gaze a dictatorial one, until it fell upon Tony. Grissom blinked twice, his mind taking a moment to sequence the facts in front of him. As last, he said, "Don't tell me there's been another murder?" He smiled and offered his hand. "Forgive my surprise. Good to see you again, Tony."

Shaking Grissom's hand, Tony smiled as well. "And you." He stepped back and put a hand on Carol's elbow. "And this is Carol Jordan. Carol, Gil Grissom."

She leaned forward and shook his hand. "Pleasure; I've heard quite a lot about you."

Eyebrows when up among the entire CSI crew, save for Sara, whose gaze sheepishly went downward.

Grissom's mouth twitched in amusement. "That's a relief, because I've heard quite a bit about you, too."

His expression was mirrored in Carol's. "Must have been an awfully long ride back to Vegas."

"Tony and Carol are here for the psychology conference in Los Angeles," Sara blurted, desperate to change the subject.

Tony quickly jumped in to help out. "Well, actually, I went to L.A for the conference, Carol came to Vegas to win an embarrassingly large amount of lucre, and we're both here to give Sara this." He leaned down to the bag at his feet. Reaching in, he pulled out a small oak plaque, an official-looking seal etched into the reflective gold plating. "For her assistance and bravery in ensuring the safety of her community, this award is presented to Sara Sidle," Tony read from the inscription.

"My community?" she laughed, attempting to divert the attention.

Warrick smiled. "Well, the world is a village."

Tony handed Sara the award and softly said, "I know you'd prefer to keep your head down and not draw attention to yourself, but just this once, enjoy the praise, all right? For me."

She nodded her understanding and reached for the award.

"Wait!" Carol interjected. Digging into her jacket pocket, she pulled out a camera. "Sorry, but it's for documentation. Don will kill me if I don't bring back a picture."

Sara appreciated Carol's humour and was glad to play along. She put an arm around Tony's shoulder and pulled him close, the plaque between them, and faced the camera.

After the flash died away, Catherine slyly noted, "That's a gorgeous smile you've got, Tony."

Nick chortled. "Hell, if I came to Vegas with a beautiful blonde, and was spending time with a pretty brunette, I'd be smilin' like that, too."

"A beautiful blonde who's won thirty grand at blackjack!" Warrick added.

"Does the mythical unspoken code among men not translate overseas?" Tony asked. "I'll be lucky if you're not investigating MY disappearance in the near future."

"Which may be sooner than you think," Carol remarked darkly.

As the laughter died down, Grissom spoke up. "As much as I'd like to stay and chat..." he held up the assignment sheets.

"... duty calls," Catherine finished without much enthusiasm.

"And I still have money to win," Carol declared.

"Fantastic," Tony remarked, without nearly as much fervor.

"How long are you in Vegas?" Grissom asked.

"We have a flight out of L.A in three days," Carol told him.

Sara beamed. "That's great! I'd love to spend some time with you guys, if that's okay."

Tony adopted a pained expression. "Anything that gets me out of the casinos."

Narrowing her gaze, Sara said, "I guess I'll take the compliments where I can get them."

"Hey!" he objected. "I came a long way just to deliver you an award."

Her lips brushed against his cheek. "Yes, you did. Thank you."

Seeing his face, Carol smirked, "I should have got a picture of that."

The group laughed again until Grissom coughed.

"Right, right," Nick said. "Work, work."

"We should all have breakfast together," Catherine suggested.

Warrick's face lit up. "Yeah, we haven't done that in a long, long time. Whaddya think, Griss?"

All eyes went to Grissom and he nodded appreciatively. "I think that's a great idea." He looked at Tony and Carol. "Why don't you two meet us back here at seven?" Then he turned to Nick. "And it's your turn to pay."

Nick's eyes widened. "Nuh-uh. I distinctively remember paying last time. It's Warrick's turn."

"Don't even try that, man," Warrick warned. "You know it's -"

"- come on, boys," Catherine corralled them together and pushed them down the hall. "More work, less talk." She turned back and said, "Good to meet you, Carol. I'll see you guys later."

The two young men were still arguing as they disappeared around the corner with Catherine.

"I'm amazed you get anything done around here," Carol remarked with a grin.

"So am I," Grissom deadpanned. He shook Carol's hand again. "It was really nice meeting you. I look forward to seeing you again at breakfast. Sara," he said as his attention went to her, "I'll meet you in the breakroom."

As Grissom made his way down the hall, Sara looked back and forth between Tony and Carol. "Thanks for surprising me," she said. "It meant a lot."

Tony shrugged away the thanks. "We were glad to do it. Besides," he leaned in and whispered, "I imagine your four hour drive with Grissom has nothing on my twelve hour flight with Carol."

"Hello?" Carol announced. "I'm standing right here."

Sara shook her head and laughed. "I expect to hear all about it before you leave."

"So do I," Carol quipped.

---


End file.
